Don't Leave Me Here
by Whyntir
Summary: This was never supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Didn't they know that this wouldn't win the war? Now we are all doomed. WWII Human AU, M for language and gore, Multiple POV. The End begins now.
1. Alfred: Rescued

All I hear is heavy breathing and the sloshing of jackboots pounding through mud.

"In here! Hurry!"

My legs loose from running, weak and ready to collapse. The ground seems to be coming closer to greet me.

"Comrade! We are almost there! Don't lose hope yet!"

Hope. Heh, what hope? I haven't had hope since this shit went down.

"Comrade?"

The ground is slick with grime as it rushes up; maybe a quick rest is fine. They may not even realize a body on the ground that's still breathing. Or maybe they can hear my heart racing a mile away.

"No! You will not die on me! Now stand up and keep moving!"

Guess giving up is out of the question, huh? He grabs me from under the arms and practically drags me the rest of the way. I guess I don't need to stand anymore, do I?

"In here!"

A broken up, falling down building? That won't keep them out, even with all the sandbags covering the openings. Believe it or not Nazi man, but they climb. Being thrown over the makeshift walls onto cold concrete isn't fun to say the least. That is all I can really say about the experience. The one who picked me up off the cold wet ground flung himself over the low wall, nearly landing on me. I sent him a pointed glare, but he ignored it and instead went for the hammer and planks of wood. What were those conveniently doing there? Regardless of my questioningly raised eyebrow, they looked over me and started boarding the place up, the sound of their efforts echoing into the fog.

"They'll hear you."

They glare and I can't help but laugh in hollow breathes.

"Your optimism isn't appreciated _Amerikaner_," the German guy snapped. Why were we with the guy anyway? Wasn't he our enemy, you know, the 'Heil Hitler' guys? The Commie didn't seem bothered as he pounded the nails in while his sworn enemy held the wood steady.

"Neither is your presence," I snapped back, hey, it sounded cool in my head.

The Russian guy glared at both of us, he had the strangest violet eyes. "Bickering can wait! I am more worried about those outside than in. If we are to kill each other off, there is no point to run from them." Their forms were still too far to see, but I could hear them. My throat immediately went dry and I could honestly say that I would have cried if I wasn't already dehydrated. "Right now, this is survival. So stop being a princess and pick up a hammer. If we're going to last at least the night, these openings must be blocked."

He had a point so, despite my jelly-legs, I stood up and grabbed the other hammer and started on another door that had been pretty much turned into another window. I was going to just cover the whole thing up when the German shouted at me from over his shoulder.

"_Dummkopf!_ Leave spaces between the slats! That way we can both see them coming and shoot before they're on top of us!" he snapped. Oh, so because I was green that made me the idiot of the group, huh? I'm sorry, but _'How to Survive Soldiers Who Won't Fucking Die' _WASN'T part of MY field manual!

The Russian gave the hammer to the Nazi and started on the next window using the hilt of his empty pistol to pound them in. Damn the fucker was strong, but he seemed so small compared to his height. With the three of us working separately, we got the five openings sealed shut, and all before those fuckers out there could see us . . . or more like the other way around. They were getting louder, they knew where we were.

A _Colt M1911_ was thrown at me and I just barely caught it with my finger tips. I glared at the German who had chucked the weapon to me. "You know how to use your own guns don't you?"

"No fuck Sherlock," I hissed, as though being quiet would keep them away longer.

"_Obratit' vnimanie! _They are coming."

It was a beat and the two of us watched each other carefully before stepping away from each other. In the silence of death, our footsteps could have been artillery fire. The building was completely concrete and had a staircase leading up to a second floor but it was covered by a couch. On the far side of the wall was a steel door, _Hell_ written red paint - . . . No, blood. My heart pounded into my throat as the groans became louder. Suddenly a gunshot made me jump. The German with his _Luger P08_ shot a single bullet through the slats; the sound of a body crumpling to the floor heartened me in an odd way. I continued to one side of the room where metal bars replaced the wall, but it seemed clear. I didn't like being in that corner, it made me feel like I was out in the open.

The German kept firing out the window to the left of me and I went to the blockaded door. I saw one lumbering . . . right . . . towards . . . me! I ducked down in a panic. Did it see me? Could it smell me? It was right there! Oh god I was going to die!

Rapid fire rang in my ears almost right beside my head. I shouted in pain as the Russia let loose his _PPD-40_ right by my head.

"Fucking ass wipe! What the fuck was that for!" I shouted, I could swear my ear was bleeding.

He looked down at me darkly, and I seriously contemplated going outside and fighting those things off with my bare hands than stay in the same building as this bear. Thick shadows covered over his eyes and the moonlight reflected off the fog and gave his pale blonde hair a sickly green tint. "If you cannot be useful on this side of the wall, perhaps you will be on the other side."

"N-no, I-I'll help. J-just startled me is all." Holy fuck this guy had creeper issues. Sure he saved our ass because I went pussy on them, but fuck! I'm eighteen! What do you want from me people! Still, I wouldn't put it pass him to throw me into that room titled Hell and lock the door from the other side. My breaths are ragged and when I stand I nearly topple over, but he grabbed my arm to keep me erect. It wasn't rough and forceful like I expected, but more apologetic and comforting. Before I knew it, he was gone to another door, blowing another monster's head off. The sound of his light machine gun and the crack of skulls toughened me up. I couldn't be a liability or they would agree and throw me out. Maybe I could run and draw away the attention from them, or I would just get bitten and they could hear me scream curses as they ate away at me until I turned into one of them. Then the two Europeans would simply shoot me.

I ran between two openings, a door and a window, while the German positioned himself between two windows in the middle of the room. The Russian kept a close eye on all the weak points, sprinting from one side of the room to another. Lucky him, he had long legs; else he would have been winded and ready to collapse . . . like I felt. The German was just picking them off, not worrying over our situation. The fucking bastard probably knew what the fuck was going on!

"_Prokljatyj!"_ the Russian shouted. He was at the barred wall, a small group of three ganging up on him. With his rapid fire he took down two while the third was clawing through the bars and slats to reach him. I don't know what came over me in that second, but it seemed like an hour. I ran to his aid and pulled out my knife, jamming it into the creature's chest. It growled for a moment and I waited for my arm to be bitten or torn off only to hear an accompanying gunshot, then I felt the weight on my blade increase and the Russian pulled me back, my knife firmly grasped in my hand. _"Spasibo,"_ he breathed in relief. I saw the blood staining his coat and I began to shiver. Had he gotten bitten? Was he going to turn into one of them? Oh fuck, should I shoot him, or throw him out there. He saw where my eyes had locked on and placed a hand on my shoulder, "It is a scratch. Do not worry. If I get bitten, I will not leave my demise to you."

Oddly enough, that helped. I nod and run back to my window where, apparently I shouldn't have left. Like with the tall Russian, three have ganged up and already ripped off a board or two, and a fourth is on its way. Instead of getting to my _Colt_, I use my already bloody knife to stab into their heads. I aim for their temples where the blade slips in and out easy. I dispose of them quickly and I turn to see the German nodding approval at me before finishing off his own growing hoard. I fish the boards from the outside quickly, before putting them back on in a different, yet secure, angle.

After a long while of silence, we relax just enough to catch our breaths. Our adrenaline has carried us so far, and now we need rest, we need sleep, but how can one sleep when we know that THEY are right outside. Using our supplies, the German guy starts a small, smokeless fire and we circle it like moths. I never even realized how cold it was until this moment, and I'm shaking like a leaf. My clothes are soaked from the fog, wet from the mud, and, I didn't notice before, but covered in blood from my right sleeve up to a few splatters across my chest. The Russian was slipped out of his heavy beige coat and was tearing off the part of his sleeve from where he had been cut, When the wound was finally revealed, I breathed a sigh of relief. Though it was fairly thin, it was in all essence a scratch. It couldn't have been a bite mark, even if I wanted it to be. He pulled out a canteen from his pack and took a sip of its contents before pouring some of the clear liquid over the bleeding wound. From the way his face consorted in pain, that couldn't have been water. He hissed through his teeth and capped the container before using the ripped piece of cloth as a bandage and wrapped up the scratch.

"That'll be a pretty scar," he barked out a laugh, before noticing my increasing shivers. When had I started hugging myself again? His eyes softened and, if it wasn't for his uniform, I could have mistaken him for a good friend, or, if I squinted, my brother. My heart started racing again as I thought of my younger brother. Oh shit, oh shit, oh fucking shit! He was still out there! How could I have forgotten!

"Whoa, easy there," The German admonished me, holding me down by my arm. Though his voice was softer than when I first heard it, his tight grip showed me he meant business, "You need to calm down. What's wrong?"

"M-my baby brother! He's still out there! Oh fuck! I-I promised I'd keep him safe! He's still out there!" I let the words out without even thinking things through.

To my utter surprise, he nodded in agreement, _"_I understand how you feel_ Amerikaner, _my_ älterer bruder _is out there, somewhere, as well. If he's even still alive."

"_Jej! _Don't scare the child!" the Russian chastised, his voice taking on a softer, more child-like air. That was a complete rotation and a half from what I had heard earlier. He smiled at me and I suddenly noticed how kid-ish he looked. A round baby face with a soft peach colored scarf covering his chin and his face framed by porcelain locks that were longer than the standard issue. It reached just a little over his ears while it caressed the back of his neck.

The German's hair was a mess, and I could have honestly laughed if it had been in any other situation. It fell over his forehead and down his neck with a few strands catching the eerie breeze that floated through the holes of the slats. My own had grown out longer since when I first arrived to the European theatre. And my stubborn cowlick was standing proud despite the rest of my hair being plastered to my skull from all the sweat that was not helping my temperature issues. A thick piece of cloth was them thrown over my head. I struggled for a moment before I recognized it as the Russian man's (boy?) overcoat.

"You look cold Comrade," he smiled, and poked at the small fire we built out of pieces of boards and splinters. "I am Major Ivan Braginsky of the Soviet Red Army. May I ask who you are _Amerikan_? It seems like we'll be here for a while, so we might as well know each other's names."

"Private Alfred Jones. I got separated from my group and ended up here," I explained.

The German gave a short laugh, "Long ways from home are we? Lieutenant Colonel Ludwig Beilschmidt. It's nice to meet you."

"Agreed," I sighed, "Without you guys, I'd be dead right now."

* * *

"_What the fuck!" Arthur shouted, he was backing away from the creatures that kept coming at them, despite being shot through the hearts. Their eyes were rolled into their skulls and they shuffled instead of walked, as though they couldn't see. Their arms were reached forward, looking for them. Arthur had been the loudest and they rushed towards him. "Fuck! Fall back lads!"_

_I watched him, worried and practically ready to run to and from him. Matthew, my little brother, rushed forward with courage I didn't have and fired a round into one of their heads._

"_Alfred! Their heads! It's the only way to stop them! Blow it clean off their shoulders!" Matthew shouted. Those that were not too far in their panic responded to the orders, including Arthur who blasted the undead soldiers with his Sten. I was about to join the bloodbath with hesitance when Arthur called me._

"_Alfred, get those fucking wankers back here! We know how to beat these bastards!" he shouted, and I agreed. I was scared, I wouldn't deny it. Even with my father figure in the same division as me, I was ready to piss my pants. He knew it to, I could tell. That's why he sent me off._

_I ran to find them; the only sounds were my jackboots in the mud. Where could they have gone? I ran faster, my feet slipping up a bit now and again. That's when I heard the screams. My blood ran cold as I saw, not one of my men, but a Nazi soldier being held down by two of those THINGS as they gored his intestines. He saw me, tears in his green eyes as he reached out to me, sobbing. His words were unintelligible. I didn't know much German; by I knew what 'Mein Gott' meant. And it sounded like he was both praying to god and praying to me. His eyes began rolling back as blood caked his dry lips, he was dying. Then they would come for me._

_But that wasn't exactly what happened._

_The man died, yes, of course he died. No one could survive their guts being eaten from their gaping abdomens as blood spilled from the severe wound. But he didn't just die. His eyes rolled back, and they seemed to be bored with him, no longer interested in the organs that were still inside. What made me ill was when he stood up, his stomach torn open and blood pouring out in buckets to the already slick ground. Then he screamed, screamed louder than I had ever heard anything screech. Not even a horse could compare to the ungodly sound. But it was cut short by the vocal chords shredding apart from the pitch, leaving the Nazi with a dull moan as he shuffled along with the others._

_I didn't realize I screamed until they were almost on top of me. That's when the gunshots rang out and their heads exploded, showering me with their cold blood. I was too shocked to make a sound, to even move. Footsteps thudded in the back of my mind and a tall figure dressed in a large overcoat came into view carrying that PPD-40_

"_Vy travmirovany?" the silhouette demanded in a heavy accent. I just kept staring as he asked again._

"_W-what?"_

_He sighed, "English. Are you injured? Have they bitten you?" I shook my head uncertainly. What if they had? Was this man going to shoot me? The gun was pointed square to my forehead. He lowered his gun, "Then follow me."_

_It wasn't by chance that we met up with Ludwig, he and Ivan had been together for some time now. They worked together diligently and had agreed to scour for survivors. They had just happened to run across me._

_

* * *

_

"Sh-shouldn't we go back out? There has got to be more than just me. We were sent to find you," I exclaimed as loud as I could, which only turned out to be an excited whisper.

Ivan blinked in confusion, "They sent you to find us?" When I nodded he laughed, "What point now? All my men are out there, wanting to eat the next fresh thing that happens by. Luckily the animals just expire."

"Besides the dogs," Ludwig muttered, and the two fell silent. I had yet to see any dogs, but from how strained they looked, I was lucky to have not to.


	2. Arthur: Hounds

"Mattie! Don't fall behind lad! Keep going!" I shout, the younger boy was losing stamina and his footfalls became heavier and loud, his large _Winchester_ model wearing him down even more, especially since the bloody thing was useless, entirely empty. The mud suckled our boots; coaxing us to rest a while, perhaps even swallow us into the earth. In all honesty, being pulled down into the mud was such a seductive choice between getting eaten alive or clawed to bits. From what I saw, getting eaten corresponded with _becoming_ one of them bloody monsters. To be human one minute, then preying on human flesh the next made my skin crawl. Why didn't they just eat themselves, or perhaps each other? That would save us a ton of trouble. But no, what I could understand from it, they wanted _fresh_ carnage. They knew once the victim passed over into their realm, their bodies stank of decay and rot.

My thoughts were cut off as I slipped, sliding over the slicked ground on my face and chest, mud entering my mouth and nose. It smelled like death and tasted as bitter as a corpse. I spat up the vile grime, my knees and hands sinking deeper into the muck. Fingers yanked urgently on my forearm, pleading for me to stand and continue on.

"A-Arthur," he whispered, still jerking me to my feet. I didn't have much of a choice in the matter, but we both froze when we heard the labored pants and the sloshing footsteps in the mud. Transferring the mud over my eyes to my shirtsleeve, I could barely make out the form of a dog lumbering towards us, more like stalking. The smell of the beast made my stomach flip, it was worse than the humans. As it made its way closer, I could make out maggots feasting on the rotting meat of its left haunch and the open wound around the creature's neck, still fresh and oozing blood and pus. Its eyes glowing a hellish red, I had originally thought these monsters were legends to scare foreigners and small children. I cowered at the sight of the real thing.

"That's no dog, it's a fucking Hell Hound."

Hearing my voice, it growled, giving a glorious view of its bloodstained jaws and blackened teeth. If the body stank, the breath was a hundred thousand times worse. Nothing like the smell of rotting organs on top of a gaseous swamp in the middle of Europe to make one's morning. I raised my _Sten_, backing slowly away. I didn't have many rounds left due to the humanoid beings we had ran into, but if it came to it, I would rather die than sacrifice Matthew.

"Get behind me lad," I whisper, herding him with the inside of my elbow. He shook so bad, I regretted ever getting him involved in this affair. He and Alfred were my cousins, and now I brought them into this hell. The beast snarled once more, pulling back like a snake before lunging forward, clearing the distance between us in two bounds. I didn't think, only aimed and fired, the barrel of the gun lighting up like a firecracker. Regardless, I found myself on the ground, the hound gnashing its jaws a mere three inches from my nose, the only thing keeping it away being my submachine gun, the body pressed against the monster's jugular. All I could think of was Mattie. Where was Matthew? The stench of its breath nearly made me keel over right then, but fear drove me as it does any man. My arms were becoming weak, however, and I seriously began doubting my survival as the giant paws tore at my uniform and flesh. The mud was closing in around my head and I knew that I was no blonde anymore, the muck coating the locks in a thick black. What the fuck was I doing thinking about my hair! I was under a giant, maggot-eaten dog that wanted nothing more than to rip my face off and I'm worried about appearance.

Saliva dribbled down onto my face, red with whatever blood and bile that coated the creature's mouth. "Matthew, get out of here!" I shouted blindly, not knowing if he was there at all or had actually abandoned me. For some reason, I didn't know which was worst. My ears were deaf to all but the snarls of the hound and my own pulse beating through my veins at an alarming rate. I just about gave up when another sound protruded my thoughts: The sound of a gun cocking back

The weight on my gun suddenly increased with the explosion of bone fragments and brain matter that rained down on my face, bitter blood slipping between my parted lips as I panted from exertion. While the force was gone, the dead weight was more than enough to make my arms go on strike, the corpse bleeding out on my khaki uniform. I wasn't dead; the stink of blood and decay that suddenly reached an all time high ensured that much. But I was shaking, I didn't even notice until I started pushing against the hound, my muscles twitching.

"Arthur!" Matthew cried out, helping me removed the body.

"Keep your voice down _mon ami_, these creatures are blind so sound is the only thing that guides them," another voice whispered. A voice I could distinctly remember. I frantically clawed my way through blood and muck before breaking free and scrambling to my feet. There he was, holding a _MAS 36_, his blue eyes scanning the area warily before they rested on my green. They widened in surprise and shock, because he never thought we'd see again, or because of how downright horrendous I looked right at the moment, gore and mud covering my face and fair hair. I had thought he was dead when he hadn't returned four months ago. I suddenly clicked two seemingly unrelated subjects together. This isn't something new, it's been like this for a while.

I opened my mouth, only to have him speak first, "I'll explain everything as soon as I can, but here is not the place and time." A howl in the distance sent shivers down our spines, our attention momentarily taken away from each other. Matthew and I glanced at each other warily, whereas the Frenchman with his grime-filled blonde hair seemed more at ease, though only through familiarity. "Follow me," he commanded, "I have some friends nearby."

Sadly I picked up his hushed undertone of, _"If they are even still alive."_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Should I not have any pairings and keep it an all out blood bath? ^^;**_  
_


	3. Ludwig: Wo Bist Du

The _Amerikaner_ slept beside the small fire, curled up in a fetal position, hands holding each other and brought close to his chest as though praying, Ivan's jacket wrapped around his waist. With every gurgled moan and shuffle, he fidgeted in his sleep; the poor kid was way out of his league. Ivan didn't rest; it was something that used to creep me out when we first found each other. He was an odd man, a few years younger than myself. When we met six months ago the Soviet struck me as insane, always smiling and walking around the marsh as though it was as familiar as home. He didn't tell me everything, seeing as we were still alive and superficially on opposing sides of this fucking war. In return, I didn't tell him everything. Our relationship is heavily censored, a simple need-to-know basis with a little more intimate information about our lives outside our government employment. He has two sisters in Okhostk, well out of the way of Germany, but not Japan.

A sickening twist of my gut left me momentarily paralyzed. Hopefully Dr. Honda of Japan was not as . . . desperate as we were. If this mess spread across the continent I would never forgive myself. All I could pray was that, once he tested the drugs, he realized that they would be too dangerous to use. Not one of ours had succeeded. This goddamned project to create super-soldiers had ruined us. The line between friend and foe had blurred so horrendously, I truly don't think it even exists anymore.

In all honesty, while I may be a Lieutenant Colonel, that was not my first profession. I am a scientist, formerly a doctor in Nuremberg before the war. I specialized in genetic disorders and mutations, toying with the idea of manipulating the genes of a subject in order to create the _'Perfect Human'_. I was picked up by the military, finding me through my brother Gilbert. I personally met with the _Führer_ and he praised my papers I had published over the years. He called me a genius, a true German for the Third Reich. Then he asked me, with proper funding, could I make my theories reality?

A reality I made; a reality that has thoroughly destroyed my hopes, my dreams, and my faith in not only humanity, but God. Whatever did I believe in before this time? I can't remember anymore, and I say this with the utmost honesty. Why did I take on this task the _Führer _assigned me? Was it pride, curiosity, the chance to see if I was right? My thoughts were well beyond my time; my theories, no matter the amount of scientific proof I padded into it, were still bordering on Science Fiction. Then again, this outcome wasn't anything a sane person would dream up.

Now here I sit; a Soviet to my right and an _Amerikaner _across the dying fire. Ivan was cleaning his gun, as though we were all sharing a barrack together instead of huddling in an abandoned bunker with those . . . _things_ outside. I could see a small glint of worry in his eyes, he was running dangerously low on ammo, and we were both sharing rations to hold on longer before going back out there to find something that was edible. In a week or two, we'll be eating corpses too if we don't get out of the marsh.

We could have left a very long time ago, weeks, maybe months, but we both stay, taking turns wandering out, looking for those who we hold dear, whom we dragged with us into this place. For me, it's my _älterer Bruder_, Gilbert. A Colonel in the military since the invasion of Czechoslovakia, he left his post to stay as a military guard in the facility I was assigned. _Mein Gott_, I miss the idiot. Ivan travels out to find an old friend who was in his battalion. All those men . . . dead, I hardly had a company in the facility, but a whole battalion destroyed. Ivan acts as though nothing else matters other than this one young man, but any sane person would know that it was a major loss of life. All I can truly say is that neither of us has found the ones we're looking for, human or otherwise. I pray every night that they are both still alive, anymore blood on my hands and I think I might just use the last of my ammunition to pierce my own skull.

As I look out the window I can see them. If I close my eyes, I can hear them. If I plug my ears, I can smell their decayed bodies. And if I place myself in a state of absolute solitude where no sense is active, I see these men as they once were: proud and firm, willing to risk their lives for their beliefs to the very end. I look through the bars and out to the marsh, the silhouettes stumbling about in the misty gray. My children I spawned from Satan himself. They came from me; I birthed them.

"You said the facility is a two day's run but holds foodstuffs, _da_?" Ivan whispered, my blue eyes meeting his peculiar violet.

I nod, "_Ja_, there is also a drug there, a serum that can reverse the affects of a bite when administered in time." His eyes widen in surprise, I had never before revealed my antidote because I'm not even sure it is still there. I tell him as much, explaining the explosion that had occurred while I had been retreating with my _Bruder_, but he waves it off.

"I do believe your facility is still worth looking into. Who knows, perhaps we may find survivors there."

"I would pray not," I whispered, my chest tightening, "Only a section of the building was destroyed, but the others are overrun by the creatures. The guards also had many dogs, so there will be more hounds than you would ever want to see."

"Sounds like the perfect vacation," the American accent cut in, we both turned to see he had awakened, how long he had been listening I don't know, but he looked overwhelmingly sarcastic with his comment. He didn't want to leave this place, but staying was nothing short of suicidal. May as well run out there now with a grenade in your hand if you wanted to wait for starvation. Alfred had lost his pack out in the marsh, so he had no provisions to speak of, nothing but another mouth to feed with our rations that could hardly feed a cat, let alone two men and a kid.

Ivan smiled, "I'm afraid we have very little choice in the matter Alfred. We need supplies, and in a facility that housed military personal, there is bound to be more ammunition and rations, perhaps new guns as well. Mine is becoming quite worn and the bullets deviate a little farther from center with each engagement. Also, if there is anymore of this serum I would find the trip worth the trouble."

"You are both fuckin' suicidal. No way I am going out there when we're perfectly safe where we are."

"We are without food."

"And 'safe' is a debatable term," I mutter as well, "Or I guess we can all feast on cyanide pills now."

"I don't have one," Ivan spoke up, almost sounding embarrassed, it was sort of funny.

"Don't worry," I assured him, "I have two."

Alfred's eyes grew huge. I knew he had his own pill, seeing as he had been in an English Company, standard issue and all that. "The hell, you two are willing to give up like that?" he hissed angrily.

"We survive together, we die together," Ivan giggled. Okay, he was taking this a little too playfully. This was supposed to be a _persuasive _move Ivan, not a serious debate!

I shrug my shoulders, "We can either die now or die later, but if we go we have a higher chance of living, so you can stay here and die alone, kill us all, or tag along. I'd feel rather guilty letting a kid like you defend himself, so would you like to come?"

He glared at the two of us with his deep blue eyes, switching between our faces. "I hate you, both of you."

"Then we'll leave after a quick rest. I need the sleep."

Alfred sat up, pulling the beige coat with him over his shoulders, "I can sit watch." At least he didn't sound any more enthusiastic than I felt.

"_Nyet, nyet_," Ivan chastised waving his hand flippantly, "The two of you sleep, you need much more rest from the exertion you went through. You're still tired."

"What about you?"

I pull off my jacket and use it as a blanket over my upper body, "Ivan doesn't sleep. So you can rest easy. He's better than a watch dog."

Despite my best efforts to clear my mind and have a good rest for once, it just turned into one of my contemplating hours, laying under the blanket motionless, breathing regular and all the signs of sleep without the unconscious part. I don't quite like these out-of-body experiences, because I notice everything we did wrong. What if I hadn't felt that retrieving Roderich was vital? Why did I even feel that way? It wasn't like we could continue our research any longer, and as associates go we were truly only business partners. Yes, we talked now and again over a cup of coffee and tea, but otherwise he was just a fellow scientist who happened to know Gilbert. Everyone knew Gilbert now that I think about it. The guards were trusted by my _Bruder_ and the Austrian scientist said something about college fellows. Then the young Hungarian female assistant Elizabeta I knew was a childhood friend and used to come over often. Funny how everyone seems to tie back together, much like a damaged strand of DNA that will bring itself back together, though the outcome was usually mutated.

And what if I had given up and told the _Führer_ that the experiments were nothing but a failure, would that have helped at all? For an odd reason I feel like it wouldn't have. Nothing mattered anymore anyways; I don't know why I continue tormenting myself. They're all dead anyway. I don't even know why I keep searching. I saw Roderich, I saw Gilbert, I saw my creations, I have seen what I know to be the truth, so why must I keep hoping, keep searching? I am so alone, so corrupted and evil.

* * *

_Oh Gott, wo bist du?_

* * *

"_Experiment number forty-eight is a failure," I sighed, Elizabeta covering the young man's pale face with the equally white sheet. I ran my hand through my slicked hair, "Damn it! I could have sworn it would work this time!"_

_Roderich's hand pat my shoulder comfortingly as brothers-in-arms in our profession, "You and I both know that the laws of science are unpredictable ones."_

"_But you saw it! I saw it! The Genetic code refused together and everything was in place! Why did he die! It doesn't make any sense! I'm tired of killing volunteers left and right," I shouted slamming the clipboard onto the counter and leaning heavily on the steel. This was becoming discouraging, Note after note of apologies, saying that husbands and sons died in their line of duty and for the good of Greater Germany. It was bull shit!_

"_Not all things work the way we expect them to Ludwig," Roderich admonished calmly, "We may have to resort to POWs, I don't feel exceptionally comfortable killing our own brethren either."_

_I heaved a heavy sigh, "I feel like this is becoming hopeless. Perhaps we can simply turn this into a poison gas and use it on the Allies." I gave a heartless laugh, "It's even cheap enough to make and use on the fucking Jews."_

"_Why don't we go take a break and look over the experiment again," he spoke it more of a statement, not a question. Such an easy-going man whereas I was uptight and high-strung, "We made progress today Ludwig, no matter how small. The DNA connected to the introduced strand, just because it wasn't completely successful doesn't mean it was a total failure. I'll see you in a bit."_

_He left through the open door as I continued to lean against the cold steel, my temper evening out. I wasn't overreacting, I knew that. No one could react enough when someone met their death at your hand. Still, I had a job to do and the only way it would get done was if I accepted the failures. A sudden noise behind me made me jump, the body on the gurney seized, startling Elizabeta as well. We watched in silence as it continued to thrash for no more than two seconds, though it seemed like hours. When everything returned to quiet, I felt my heart pounding through my temples with rushing blood, my hand gripping the hilt of my Luger under the white coat. The only sound was the ticking of the clock as Elizabeta and I stood as statues._

"_A . . . side-effect from the drug perhaps?" she asked as though groping for an explanation. Hell if I knew, but I was ready to go with that. I nodded, straightening myself out, fixing my lab coat and standing up straight._

_I glanced at the clock, my adrenaline levels dropping rapidly. Whatever that had been, it was over now. "Elizabeta, can you take this one down to the morgue for me. I have paperwork to fill out."_

"_Of course Dr. Bielschmidt." I never understood why she liked calling me that other than my first name, so I am left to dream up her answers. Leaving the room, I looking at my watch and find the time, just a little pass midnight. Despite the lateness of the hour, there were still plenty of people bustling by. It was like we were machines, up forty-eight to seventy-two hours and sleeping for four hours if we were lucky, but never complaining. We had become so use to the sleep deprivation that our bodies didn't recognize the term. It was a lot like being a surgeon with the long work hours and gallons of caffeine._

"_Hallo!" a voice called from behind me before a hand came down on my shoulder, added weight of another body. The Allgemeine SS uniform was thick for the murky conditions of the marsh, seeing that it was still early in the year and spring was taking its time. The single oak leaf patches on the sides of the collar represented rank. He wasn't too high on the list, but high enough to hold representation, low enough to be able to worm his way into the laboratory without major protest. A Standartenführer, he talked bigger than he was._

"_Hallo Gilbert."_

_He was a peculiar one, and I being his brother, that meant something. His hair was such a bright blonde it was more fitting to call it white. And then there were his eyes, instead of the Aryan blue that my own were, they were a violet-red. In all honesty, it had been his genetic mutation that originally got me interested in the field back in high school. He was arrogant, cocky, but well-meaning and honest. "You look like shit Ludwig," he laughed, mussing up my hair like any older brother would do. I am twenty-five though, and him twenty-seven! I am too old to be treated like a child._

_I glared pointedly, fixing my now ruined blonde hair, "Thank you for pointing that out. I see you are off duty."_

"_Yeah, not much up there. The Allies still don't even know we're here from what I reckon. This is still 'No-man's Land' according to them," he smirked. Why did he have to get the easy job? Standing around and holding a gun and winking to the nurses, I wondered why he got paid for anything. He even confided in me that he did not support Hitler, joining the military so he didn't have to kill innocents. To a degree I agreed with him, seeing as many innocents like those with physical handicaps were eliminated, but the other unfavorable were quite justified, at least in mine own opinion._

"_That's comforting. I rather prefer the quiet."_

"_God, this is why you are never laid my dear baby brother. In the middle of the act while she's screaming in ecstasy, you're going to stop and ask her to be quiet! You are the most boring man I ever met. I mean, even Roderich is getting some!" he shouted. Whereas my brother's vocal cords to emanate sounds that exceeded the volume of a normal human being, I was quiet and stoic. Oh how were we ever born of the same woman? Not just that, but he was vulgar. My fist swung up and impacted him square in the nose, not hard enough to break it, but enough to give him the message. "Fuck that hurt!"_

"_Then perhaps you will reconsider what you broadcast to the world," I hissed, "Aren't you supposed to be doing something right about now."_

"_Yeah," he groaned, voice finally quieting to the point of normalcy, "I was heading over to the security room, ask the tech guy what he was finding, check the stupid radar."_

_My eye twitched in annoyance, "But you decide to come and harass me instead of doing your JOB!"_

"_Hey, hey, don't bust a vessel on me," he cackled, "Just checking up on you. Roderich said you threw a fit in the lab."_

"_That isn't your jurisdiction," I growled through clenched teeth. I doubted Gilbert would have ever been able to make it into college anyway. The only terms he thought in were survival._

_He pat my back with a hard thump, "Then I see you're back to normal. So no need to shoot me, I'm going go and do my 'job'. Shit, you treat me like a paid guard."_

"_You ARE one!"_

"_No," he sang back as he walked backwards down the hall, the other people moving to avoid him, "I'm a volunteer!" He winked at me before running off. For a Standartenführer, he was a toddler. I made my way to the cafeteria where I picked up a late lunch. Or was it an early dinner? Hell, it may have even been breakfast at the time. Regardless, I sat alone and ate, my mind wandering back to the experiment._

_For one thing, the introduced strands had connected onto the DNA for the first time, but then the entire body shut down. He had foamed at the mouth as he screamed, I could hear the vocal cords ripping almost, blood coating the inside of his mouth. Then he died. It was the most violent reaction that I had seen in all my years of science and doctoring. I sighed; maybe it was something, maybe it wasn't. I would prefer testing these drugs out on Soviet POWs or Jews, maybe even Gypsies. The only down fall would be if it did work, then I would be stuck with a super soldier prisoner, and that doesn't work even in the same sentence structure. A thought then crossed my mind. Perhaps the drug had done more than just connected to the DNA strand. I needed to see that soldier._

_Discarding my meal, I hurried out of the mess hall and scoured the walkways. The one thing with both Elizabeta and Gilbert was that they were hard to miss, but yet I did not see her. To say I was confused is an understatement. I was just about to give up when the lights went out and the emergency power kicked in, the infiltration alarm shrieking._

_The nurses and doctors stood stock still as the soldiers scrambled; Gilbert appeared from down the hall, his Kar98k in his hand as he ran towards me. Apparently Roderich was worried about what was going on as well, running up from behind._

"_Get all these people into the shelter!" Gilbert shouted to his Sturmbannführer who ran alongside him as they passed us. My legs followed them, running with them, and Roderich following me._

_The elder man, though lower in rank, looked petrified, "We can't sir! They've already passed through that sector and more are coming along the way."_

"_Where the fuck did this start!" my brother screamed, if he was that worried, rest assured that I was more so by a hundred fold, "Better question, WHAT the fuck are they!"_

"_We don't know sir," the man replied, his own voice becoming hysterical, "There aren't any signs of these things in the marsh!"_

_Roderich reached out and grabbed Gilbert's coat and spun my brother around, "WHAT is going on? No one knows a thing of what you're saying!"_

_He looked between me and the other doctor. Both of us were trained with a gun and Roderich was a Sturmbannführer as well. We could handle ourselves. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But what I know is that something is here, and the numbers are growing. From what I've been told and can deduce, this came from the inside." A sound sent shivers down our spines, the ungodly moan of dozens of voices, attempting speech through shredded vocals. We all turned at once._

_I saw people I knew, all of them I knew. Doctors, soldiers; male, female, it was indiscriminate. They were covered in blood, a young man who had just been transferred in was among them, and his laboratory coat was stained crimson and torn. His jaw hung at an odd angle, obviously broken as his hands reached in any direction, searching for something. Their smell was disgusting, still fresh and oozing with blood. I felt my stomach heave. I have seen dead people, mauled people, gravely ill, and even tortured to the point of no return. This was an entirely new level I never wanted to see. Alive, but dead, hunting, but blind, these creatures were from Hell's pits._

_Gilbert raised his rifle, along with his major pulling out and aiming his Luger. It was all a flurry of sound and gore to me. The eerie chorus of groans and the more recent angered shrieks as they clawed, stimuli still being registered due to their brains not yet decayed. They wouldn't fall. They kept coming, kept surging. Screaming as the major was grabbed, the sound of blood falling in pints on the cement floor, chewing, crying. I felt a hand grab my arm and the sound of German swears and gunshots. One was right on top of my brother, the nails black with blood. It went to grab him and Gilbert pulled back at the last possible second, receiving nasty claw marks across his face. The strength of these monsters was unbelievable, my brother being thrown to the floor from the velocity of the swipe._

_The hand that held my arm in terror was Roderich, his knuckles turning white as he watched, as I watched. The major lay on the ground, his arm eaten to the point of crimson bones glistening in the harsh light. Then he stood, eyes rolled into his skull unseeing, and screamed. That was the same screech I heard from the volunteer in the lab._

_Gilbert was pinned under the weight of a fellow soldier who had passed onto their side, the red of his swastika band blending with the blood running from his shoulder. I was pressed into action, my own survival taking a back seat. When the major fell, his handgun had skirted across the floor away from the group. I swiped it up and dashed to my brother, placing the muzzle to the back of the creature's head and pulling the trigger._

_I heard the heavy thunk of the corpse going slack and my brother's gagging and swearing muffled under the body. The exit wound had been like an explosion through the frontal lobe and continued on to embed itself into the ground beside his head. The gore, on the other hand, had become a shower of brain matter and skull bits and pieces. Blood spilled over Gilbert's face, the side without the scratches, some of the dark crimson liquid slipping between his pale lips. Hence the gagging I had heard. I kicked the body off of him and pulled him to his feet before another could reach us. Roderich had retrieved Gilbert's rifle from where it had flown when he was knocked to the ground, aiming carefully and firing shell after shell into their heads. That was how to kill them._

"_Come on!" I shouted, dragging Gilbert who had yet to finish dry heaving. The Austrian covered our retreat by running with us before opening up on the perusing mob and downing the first few before running on._

"_Shit," it was the first time I ever heard Roderich swear, "No more ammo! Keep running!"_

_We made it to one of the lock-down points, the sounds of people behind us screaming in terror and agony. The three of us hauled together, pulling the steel doors shut and locking the padlock with Gilbert's keys. No matter how hard I tried, they were still there; the screams that sang through the doors in the vilest of voices._

"_I can't activate the electro-guard from here, I need to reach the mainframe," my brother hissed, spitting onto the floor, the blood from earlier still enough to tint his saliva red._

"_And that is on the OTHER side," I exclaimed, "What do you plan to do now?"_

_He glared at me with his red eyes, "Do YOU volunteer going back through those doors?" As I opened my mouth to reply, a loud banging rattled the steel doors. We all froze, our blood running cold. As it was, they wanted through those doors, and would manage any way they could._

_Roderich glared at the two of us, "We either keep together or fight and all die! They are breaking through, and the only room with the built-in electro-guard is the Surveillance room which is on THIS side of the wall. Now you can follow me or sit here and bicker!" Without waiting, he started down the halls. Gilbert took my hand and followed after him. We would stick together, no matter what; he would make sure of that. About halfway to our chosen destination, the loud, rising groan of the steel giving under the pressure forced upon it. Screams. So many screams. I recall feeling tears in my eyes as we ran. Had I done this? Was this my fault? After an eternity, or so it seemed, we reached the room._

"_The Fuck!" Gilbert shouted, the two techs inside the room were moaning creatures already. But had we not locked them all behind us! The guns and ammunition were behind them, locked away in case of emergencies. In this situation, they were practically useless over there! My brother took the rifle from Roderich, charging into the room._

"_You idiot!" the Austrian doctor shouted after him. I didn't think much at this point, so whether he was being heroic of stupid I couldn't determine. I was so lost, so confused. As I watched Gilbert beat into our Aryan brethren with the butt of the gun until their skulls were nothing more than fragments drowned in pools of blood. The screams were nearer, the shuffling could be heard. Gilbert grabbed my hand, "Get your ass in here!" and the door was slammed shut behind me, followed by the loud hum of an electrical current._

_The bodies were stuffed into a supply closet we raided for first aid and rations. I set to work cleaning Gilbert's cheek as he attempted to eat Rinderbraten from the can slapped on top a Knäckebrot. He whined pitifully as I dabbed alcohol onto the cuts that weren't lethal, but would leave three scars across his cheek._

"_If you keep eating like that we'll have nothing," I chastised, "One doesn't eat his entire ration pack in one sitting."_

"_I know, I'm just hungry," he growled through cheeks full of food. He reminded me a bit like a chipmunk hoarding for hard times. And lord knew we had hard times ahead. One glance out the tinted, bullet-proof window or the constant moaning and shrieking of electrocuted beasts was enough to back my claim. I had just finished bandaging his wounds when a hollow pounding made us jump. We looked to the window to see a familiar silhouette, her arms flailing and beating against the plastic._

"_ELIZABETA!"_

* * *

I jolt into an upright position, the hollow banging no longer against plastic, but metal. The metal door on the other side of the bunker buckles under the force. Ivan stands, loading the last of his ammunition into the gun, "Looks like we will be having company." The thrashing of those behind the door to _Hell_ drew the attention of those outside.

"Upstairs, we can escape through one of the windows there," I explain quickly, loading my _Luger_. I could have sworn I had more ammunition. The _Amerikaner_ looked equally downcast. "We can leave now or give up."

Alfred frowned, still not liking the idea, "Then let's get our asses moving." He reminds me a lot of my older brother.


	4. Matthew: In the Heart

The longer we walked, the more we saw. To keep walking and walking for two days, it was as though we were going deeper into the heart of this chaos than retreating to the safety the French soldier had indirectly promised. I was exhausted, so thoroughly exhausted. If I felt like this, how much more Alfred, he had never been the one to fight in a state of fear. My jackboot slipped for the umpteenth time and my arm was held with a bruising grip. "Not here lad," Arthur whispered, "We'll sleep soon." After this experience, I wonder if I'll ever sleep again. I wish I were sleeping and that once I fell asleep here I would wake up in the real world where I have been shot in the leg or something and just placed under anesthesia. In the distance I see a building, actually a large collection of buildings in what appears to be a scientific facility. I swallowed yet another whine at the sheer distance we were at.

"How much longer Frog," Arthur hissed as we skirted around the walking corpses. I took note that most didn't wear military uniforms at all, but actually white laboratory coats with the red, white, and black bands about their arms, the fabric crusted and stained. Those stank the worst than anything else we came across, their bodies the most decayed, some even crawled along the ground with gnarled and broken legs, their bones breaking through the skin in every angle. Then there were those we saw, their entire bodies beaten and battered from their ruthless push forward to whatever prey they had targeted. The moaned in the muck, arms and legs immovable and torn into meshes of jagged, broken bones and maggot infested flesh. We took great care in stepping around them, since they could still hear and give off our position. Moving or not, they were as dangerous as a minefield.

The French soldier didn't turn back, only kept moving until we reached a demolished gate that, at one time, had been barbed wired and most likely electrocuted if the numerous charred bodies filled with swarming white maggots and hovered over by flies. "Through here it's a straight run. They don't like being kept in one place, so they funnel out into the marshes and disperse." This is perhaps the safest place at the minute. Not only that, but an antidote."

"What do you mean an antidote?" I gasped, more from attempting to catch my breath than actual surprise. Yeah, I was just that tired.

He didn't answer, just jumped over a low, stooped section of the chain-linked fence, Arthur pushing me behind him before joining us on the other side. The buildings were pretty much destroyed, holes were broken through the cement and writing covered some of the walls. There wasn't much for obvious reasons. The ghostly words sent shivers down my spine.

_Gott, wo bist du!_

_Retter, du aufgegeben mich!_

_Ich gebetet, du tat nicht hören._

_HILF!_

"I'll warn you now, one of them is a little-."

"Off his rocker?" Arthur offered and the Frenchman looked back with a tired smile.

"In a sense," the heavy French accent sighed. We entered the demolished building, bodies litter the ground, their bodies reeking and the white parasites consumed the rotting flesh, multitudes writhing and squirming. "Who is your friend Arthur?"

"My cousin, Matthew. Mattie, this is Francis. You remember him?"

Not originally, but then again I should have made the connection. It was just that our meeting hadn't been a very memorable interaction, not only that but I had been seven at the time. If I squint and cock my head to one side, I could see the tall, young troublemaker who took more care into his appearance than most girls I knew, though there weren't a lot of girls I knew; or a lot of people in general. A cold wave washed over me as I realized I was nothing of any importance. If I died, no one would care and no one would remember. My entire family was in this wasteland and I doubted we would live through this.

"Yes, I remember. We all thought you died."

Francis laughed, "I think I did, but at least I'm not alone _mon ami_. _Souffrances amours compagnie._"

We navigate the halls; the faint sounds of moaning from other sectors of the facility all but freezing me in my steps. There were screams. _Fresh_ screams. People were still alive in this place and Francis didn't take any mind. We walked pass doors, corpses accessorized with handguns and pills and many other forms of suicide options. Some were even fresh, not a week ago.

"_HILF MICH! HILF MICH GOTT!"_

The pleas were so loud I could hear them as though the man was speaking beside me. As they devoured him, he would not leave this existence quietly, and his transformation was widely broadcasted. The excited moaning echoed, followed by the high screech of a newly born monster as it tore its own body to shreds, not feeling the pain of a human. What were they? They looked like men but felt no pain, experienced no fear or human expressions of emotion, and their strength. It was unnatural the amount of raw power their bodies held, being able to rip my arms clean off, followed by my head and then breaking my spine across their knee like a twig. How could anything derived from man be so powerful?

Another scream, much, much closer cascaded into my ears. If anything it sounded like we were moving _towards_ the source. Was Francis going to kill us? Was he completely loony? Where were these _friends_! A deep pit of doubt coiled in my gut as we continued, but another voice was barely discernable under the loud cries we approached.

"_Shhhh, quietly now, quietly. They'll hear you."_

"_Make them stop, please, make them stop."_

"_Who? What are you talking about? Calm down, there's no one here."_

"_Voices. Voices. Voices . . ."_ The voice wandered off, unintelligible muttering continuing the thought.

The voices emanated through a steel door, a faint humming told me that touching the metal wouldn't be the wisest choice. "Roderich, it's Francis."

"Ah, Francis, I was getting worried. One moment." The voice held a heavy German accent, to say I was surprised is an understatement. The language written about was obviously German, but to actually _work_ with one after all the propaganda we had just devoured before enlisting was a sort of mind-bending notion. The buzz ceased and a heavy, hollow thud of a bolt and the numerous little clicks signaled a person unlocking the sturdy door. It opened just enough for us to slip through before hastily being closed once again.

The man on the other side wasn't one I expected. He looked nothing like the Aryan race Hitler was proclaiming with deep amethyst eyes and brown, messy hair. He wore a pair of cracked glasses and a white laboratory coat that looked oddly like the clothes of those undead creatures in the marsh. Even the red, black, and white bands proudly displaying a tarnished Swastika was still wrapped around his arm.

On a makeshift bed of rolled up uniforms and covered in bandages of varying sizes and textures, some looking like they were torn off the white coat the brunet wore, was a military man with light hair and muttering to himself. His hands held the fabric that made up the bed as though he was grasping at life. From the feverish flush of his skin, he very well might be. The tendons in his hands constricted and relaxed in rapid succession. The bandages were ensanguine and most abundant around his arms and neck. Scars darker than his skin were etched into his skin. A few things caught more interest to me: His hands were so close together, handcuffed with metal shackles and welded to the ground, his red eyes seemed to glow in the din, though faintly, and he stank. He smelled reminisce of those beings that lumbered through the marsh, though not to that degree. I didn't know if it was from all the infected wounds or if he truly was rotting before my eyes.

Arthur wheeled back, aiming his gun at the man; I don't believe he even had any ammo. "The fuck! What's the matter with him!"

The man in the white coat jumped in front of the barrel of Arthur's _Sten_, "He's been bitten yes, but don't shoot. Please."

"And why the bloody hell not!" I was with Arthur on this matter. If he had been bitten, we'd have to kill him sooner or later.

"He was bitten about three and a half weeks ago. If he hasn't changed yet . . . there's something happening inside him. Most die within minutes and are reborn as those creatures, but he's been like this for _three weeks_. I believe his body is actually fighting it as though it is a virus of some kind." I looked back to the red eyed man; he showed all the symptoms of raging a biological war inside his blood. "One of many things may happen: he will completely destroy the mutation, it'll overtake him, or the fever will mutate his DNA as well as the virus making him immune or killing him."

We watched the man for a few silent seconds before Arthur reverted his attention back to the man, Roderich, "You sick fucking bastard! Just shoot the poor devil! You're killing him either way!"

"There's a good chance he'll survive, his fever has reduced from 106 degrees to 104 in the past four days. I think he'll be coming around soon," Roderich looked more relaxed than any person I knew in such a situation. His fellow survivor on the ground, locked like an animal, and writhing in delusional fever, it seemed pretty heartless to me.

Arthur looked on in disgust, "So he's just a fucking test subject to you!"

"That's part of what he volunteered for," Roderich hissed, going back and kneeling before the German soldier.

Francis sat in a chair, the wood was worn and dull, creaking under his weight, "He should have been turned when he was found. We all met up about two months ago. Gilbert was with us, but he braved the halls to go and retrieve the antidote, which he did successfully return, though by that time we were not willing to administer it to him."

"And why not!"

"The thing is that the virus connects directly to the DNA, and it is vital to administer the antidote in the first minute and a half, in that time, the mutation will enter the nucleus of a multitude of cells at once and connect directly to the DNA strand and integrated into your entire body," Roderich explained the scientific terms, "To administer the antidote at that point is murder and would denature the entire genetic code and kill the receiver."

"How long was he infected before he arrived?" I asked gently as there was a terrified whimper from the chained man.

"Seeing as his nonfatal wounds were drying and scabbing, longer than a minute and a half."

Arthur was not impressed, "And why didn't he just administer the antidote on himself."

"We locked it up, only myself and one other doctor knows the code to open the case." My English cousin scoffed. I wasn't rather impressed either.

Arthur doesn't like Roderich, Roderich is suspicious of Arthur, Francis wants to stay out of it, and I'm with him. They bite at each other like dogs, only with words. Arthur always whispers mean things about the brunet to me. I don't know whether this animosity originates from the doctor's air of apathy towards his suffering ally, or the fact that he's a Nazi. It's hard to decipher. Francis doesn't seem to be at ease entirely, until Gilbert had one of his bouts, but those were becoming less and less often, and less and less violent.

I can only think about Alfred, what could have happened to him? Was he still alive? I wish I knew. Everyone sleeps on the edge while I keep watch. Alfred always sucked at staying awake, we always let him sleep and I'd take his place on his nights. No one ever noticed anyway. He was Alfred, I was Alfred Number Two. Not that I complain much, only when the troubles he caused rained down on my head. He was an idiot and bad older brother, but I loved him anyway. Don't ask why, I can't answer it logically.

By now they have filtered to our quadrant of the desolated building. They moan as they travel pass, not looking for us, but longing for us, searching for us, for any poor bastard at all.

"Kat . . ."

I jump, startled by the sudden voice and turning. Gilbert is propped on his elbow, faintly glowing, red eyes looking at the door, through the door and into the halls. His hands are still chained, but he isn't struggling. He doesn't see me at all it seems, he's searching for something I cannot see.

"_Lass mich in Ruhe, bitte lass mich in Ruhe Teufel._"

I don't know German, so whatever he said was lost, but he keeps muttering, repeating, chanting. Can he not stop? Over and over he says one single word.

"Katarine . . . Katarine . . . . Katarine . . ."

Then I hear it, faint through the door. Mutilated voices struggling to speak through shredded vocal cords by the dozens. There isn't the loud screech of them being electrocuted, so they aren't coming for us, but the sound is enough to make me grip the _Sturmgewehr 44_ or _STG44_ Roderich had given me. The voices cascade and echo through the halls and bounce off the steel door and echo loud enough for me to listen to their chorus of the undead.

"Kat . . . Katarine . . . Kat . . . Kat . . . Kat . . . arine . . ." The man in the room with me looks just as terrified as I do.

"_Lass mich in Ruhe. Bitte . . . Bitte . . . Bitte . . . Katarine, Bitte . . ._"

Katarine . . . A name. A girl's name. They are all saying it. All these creatures, all these demons. Why? What makes this girl so powerful to be hailed by these unstoppable beings?

Who is she?


	5. Kat's Story Time

_Once upon time in a land far away from here, there was a kingdom that was destroyed by hatred and fear and greed. The previous king of that country, let's name it Germundy, was very greedy and mean, but also very weak, using slaughter and proud posturing to get what he wanted. In the end, three opposing countries, we'll call them Francia, Braton, and Usa, anyway, they won and made a cruel and unfair treaty to punish Germundy and her people. Their economy was destroyed, their lives useless. The king was overthrown and set up with a "Democracy" where nothing could get done because they were under the thumb of the three wretched nations who watched Germundy whither and starve with an aloof air._

_One day a man, we'll call him Adalwolf Hiter, gathered together the people and gave them hope. Gave them pride again, and power. They felt complete once again, ready to extend their hand over the continent. Not everyone was rejuvenated however. Not everyone was happy because Hiter called to a mass extermination of many different peoples, homosexuals and cripples, Jews and Gypsies, and the mentally insane. All of these people were defects in the Aryan race Hiter proclaimed and cherished. And the people believed him, not wishing for him to abandon them like their last king had. They raised him up and hailed his name, placing a crown of holy glory and fear upon his head. And they went out experimenting, tormenting, torturing, and killing._

_A young girl at the age of fourteen, we'll call her . . . Kat, Kat was a pretty little girl with large green eyes and hair like sunshine. She had a doting brother who promised to protect her from the world. There was just a simple problem. Kat heard voices and saw things no one else saw. She could see half-rotted corpses reaching for her, she could see their eyes glowing red and plump, fat white maggots feasting upon their flesh. They frightened her at first, but they said her name, called to her, begged her not to run and that they wanted to love her and make her happy. Of course no one else saw these creatures, but how could she deny them the basic request of conversation? She talked to them constantly, wherever she went. They followed her and would beg to hear her sweet little voice. Before Kat and her brother could leave the ever growing violence in Germundy, she was taken away and placed in what they called a Mad House._

'_She talked to spirits,' says they._

'_She sees the devil,' says they._

'_She sings demonic songs and dances wildly in her room,' says they._

_But Kat was only trying to find happiness in what had become of her. Then it started happening. Every day someone was missing from his or her bed; someone was missing from the dining room; someone was missing. Every day, the hospital was becoming more and more lonely. Kat would pretend that she was asleep many a night and midday to overhear the nurses gossiping in the halls._

"_They don't say where the vials come from, but the doctor looks very interested in them though. And the notes say the patient dies in a matter of seconds. It's amazing, and obviously cheap if you look at how many there are."_

"_I heard doctor Vargas wanted to try his hand at it."_

"_As did I. I also think he got the 'Go ahead' from higher up."_

"_Which higher up? Mussolini or the Führer?"_

"_Haven't a clue, but Italy, I hear, is upset that this was sent to Japan and not them."_

"_As goes the world of politics."_

_Kat was curious about this drug that was used to take away the familiar faces of her life inside the white, white building, but she had another thing to look forward to that day. Her brother was coming to visit! She sat out in the courtyard, despite being told not to. It wasn't a courtyard anymore, but a graveyard. Her white, white dress blew about her thin, thin legs. She was never very hungry, and the food was poisoned. The voices told her they were trying to kill her, and she would prefer to die on her own accord and not theirs._

"_Kat," a masculine voice called, sounding breathless._

_A smile touched her pale lips as she turned to him, "Brother!" She ran to him and jumped into his arms. He hugged her gently; careful of her frail ribcage that was the most prominent section of her torso._

"_You still do not eat."_

"_It's not safe, I've told you. Besides, you bring me good food every time you come and visit." She smiled as she saw the piece of cheese and bread in his pockets. He frowned, looking ashamed, but discreetly slipping the food to her._

"_I cannot come back again."_

"_Wh-why!" she exclaimed, almost dropping the food._

"_The military is drafting and my being here puts me at great risk in being pulled in."_

"_Wh-where will you go!"_

"_Switzerland."_

_She began to fall from faintness, and he caught her at the last moment, "S-so far away . . ."_

"_I'm sorry. I must go now. I hear that the military is coming so this will be the last we will see each other." And with that he turned away. It gave her some hope to see him falter and turn back to take one last look at her before walking out the gates._

* * *

_Not long after, Kat was tied to her bed, angry and screaming at the monsters that wore the white of death. She was certain that when one died, they saw white instead of black. Not because she believed in heaven or anything beyond, but because she learned that white was the absence of everything, and black was the chaotic combining of everything. She kicked against the restraints and cursed the ceiling. The creatures moaning in anger as well, wanting to help but having no physical form. She soon became tired of all the fighting, her wrists and ankles raw and burning. She didn't want to lie there anymore._

"_Are you going to be civilized now?" the demon nurse demanded. Kat's voice was raw and scratchy, so she simply nodded her head. She wanted to stretch her arms and legs that were stiff and bruised. The nurse grunted and untied her, leaving the girl to get up on her own. But she was so tired. She laid on the bed dozing for what seemed like a matter of minutes when a voice pulled her from her dreamless sleep._

_Footsteps approached her cautiously, "Hey, kid. You alive?"_

_She opened her green eyes to be met with red. Her heart leaped, not from fear but joy. Had one of her friends obtained a physical form! She was up on her knees in seconds, hugging him tight and burying her face in his jacket. "He said he isn't coming back anymore! He said he was leaving me here!"_

_The body she held stiffened, "Who?"_

"_Brother! Brother left me here to die out of fear! Why! Am I not worth anything to him! To anyone!"_

"_Hey, kid," he pushed against her gently, "I don't know who you think I am . . ."_

_She looked up, though it sounded like she had been crying she found such a feat impossible. The red eyes didn't glow, but she saw a light behind them, the pale skin looked like a corpse untouched from maggots and beetles. She touched the face gently and looked deeply into the red eyes. He didn't look frightened at all. She smiled, "I know you."_

_He was confused, that was certain, but just then they were interrupted._

"_Gilbert, you have more important things to do than talk to nutcases, though I'm sure the two of you make beautiful chemistry," a dark haired man called from the doorway, "But your brother had a reason for sending us here."_

"_Yeah, yeah, I'm coming asshole." And he started out the door, but he turned back and looked at Kat again, for a long, long moment. The light behind those red eyes made her heat skip as she watched him leave. Day after day he would seek her, bringing her food like brother had done. The young soldier with the red eyes, he was honourable, dignified, and handsome. She loved him._

* * *

"_Kat?" he called to her as she sat out in the courtyard. The leaves were changing colours and dancing away on the wind, happy to be free and to travel, unlike her who was stuck in this wretched place. A feeling of nostalgia reached her, this had been the same place, brother left her, one year to the day. Her birthday. She turned and smiled, fifteen years of her life had passed and she had lost her mind, lost her freedom, lost her brother, found a love. He stood under the oak tree, his hat under his arm and his SS uniform looking as beautiful as ever on his slight frame. She walked over to him lady-like, men liked that sort of thing, not always the running and the jumping. They liked to feel loved, but not obsessively so. They liked beautiful, presentable young ladies on their arms, not children who ran everywhere. That's what the nurses had said when they thought she was not listening. They liked him to, but did he ever sit and talk with them? Did he tell them stories about his brother who was so smart that Einstein was only a theorist in comparison? Did he sing songs to them? Did he bring them food? Did he ever kiss their hands! No, never! Only for her did he act so kind, so caring._

_She held out her hand and he took it gently in his own, bringing it to his velvet soft lips in a gentlemanly kiss. No matter how often he did that, she giggled and flushed. She would need to grow out of that in the next three years, that way she could leave this place and leave with him and they could get married and have beautiful children and run away from all the pain and sorrow. Perhaps they could go to Switzerland and find her brother and they could all be one happy family. He smiled down at her warmly, that mischievous glint behind those wine-coloured eyes. It was then she saw the small bag, half hidden behind his leg. "Gilbert, what is that?" she asked curiously, the childish nature she had a hard time breaking out of creeping upon her._

"_It's a little something," he chuckled, moving it away from her eyes, "I need to tell you that Ludwig called me back. He believes Dr. Vargas has everything under control for the most part, and one long year without his big brother made him miss me."_

_It was as though she was slapped in the face. Tears pricked her emerald eyes as she looked up to the man who owned her heart, trying to keep her composure and failing miserably. "Y-you mean . . . I-I'll be a-all alone again."_

"_I'm sorry. If I could stay I would," he suddenly let the hat fall to the ground and pulled her into a warm hug, her head resting against his chest, hearing the soothing beat of his heart. The bag tapped against her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his waist in a grip like death._

"_NO!" she screamed into the thick fabric, "I won't let you go! You can't leave me too! You can't!" He rocked her back and forth, shushing her quietly as she sobbed. So patient, he didn't let go of her until her tears stopped and her wails quieted into hiccups._

_He then held her at half an arm's length and looked her up and down, a sad smile gracing his features, "I won't forget about you, okay? I'll be back soon, I promise. I get a here month leave next year. Just you wait, time will fly and I'll see you again Kitty Kat. But I have something else."_

"_Wh-what is it?" she asked, pushing the left over tears away with the heel of her hand, the salty stains running down her cheeks. He held the bag out to her and she took it delicately between her fingers. No one had ever given her something like this before. It was dull in colour, but inside was a lilac card, written in painstakingly neat handwriting that still needed some work were the words 'Happy Birthday'. She looked at it over and over again before looking up at him. He had retrieved his hat and dusted it off before placing it on his snowy hair. "For me?"_

"_Go on and open it in your room. That way they can't see what a lucky girl you are," he smirked before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, "I have to go Kitty Kat, I'll be back next year, I promise."_

* * *

_She saw him off from her room window, as he walked out the gate he looked up to her, seeing her through the bars. He frowned at the inhumane regulations, but smiled at her and waved his leather-clad hand. She waved back, unsure if he could see. In her hands was a pretty porcelain doll, her hair in braids and her eyes as green as trees in the heart of summer. She wore a red velvet dress and her rosy lips smiled, showing off her plump, flushed cheeks. She watched him step into the black car waiting for him; she could see his red eyes flicker up to her one last time before he disappeared and the door closed, hiding him behind tinted windows. The engine roared to life and the driver took off and she held the doll tighter to her chest. On her bed was the card that read 'Happy Birthday', however it was faced down into the covers. She was more interested in the words scrawled on the back._

'_Love, Gilbert.'_

* * *

**A/N: I was going to keep ANs out of this story to keep up the darkness and not have me rant forever down here, but this must be done! ****THIS STORY JUST GOT FANART AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO THANK THEM ENOUGH!**** Here is where you can find it! I cannot thank them enough!**

http: / / nhannghianguyen (DOT) deviantart (DOT) com/ art/ Katarine- 211245891


	6. Ivan: Ever Onward

They were down there in the darkness; their moans rising up from the barricaded doors, those wood planks would not last long. The stairs were blocked by a cave in of the ceiling that had obviously happened quite some time ago. As it was, we were out of both ammunition and wood planks, running off of adrenaline and luck. The pressure was so tense as the sound of splintering wood and angry groans kept to the beat of the irregular pounding on the metal reached us halfway up the staircase. A few more taps echoed from down the flight of steps before the dreaded hollow clicks died under renewed moaning.

"_Scheiße__!_" Ludwig cursed as he hurried back to us, jumping the steps two at a time, "Are you two through yet!"

"Almost," I shouted back, only to hear something from above. I whipped around to see the glowing red eyes of even more creatures pouring in from top floor. I backed away, bumping into the boy behind me.

"Hey!" Alfred shouted, almost getting knocked down the stone steps and into the German running up the stairs, "What was that-!"

I grabbed his arm and started running down. Ludwig halted in his progress, confusion written over his face. "They're coming in from there too!" The sounds of splintering wood sent my heart into frenzy, adrenaline coating my arteries as I looked over our bleak situation. No ammunition, the banging on the door was insistent, the rocks from the collapsed ceiling on the stairs were rattling down the steps. Hopelessness was feeding off my fright, there had to be something we could use! There were a few pipes on the walls from when the building had been in function, then the hammer.

The _Amerikan_ fell to his knees, "We're going to die. Oh God, please don't leave me here! Please, oh God!" He started crying, the dark droplets of salty water rolling down his cheeks to the cement floor. I looked to Ludwig who had that hollow gleam in his sky blue eyes; the look of surrender. Did I look like that? Had I given up and not even realize it?

"Get up! We may have no ammunition, but we have close ranged weaponry," I growled, dragging the child up by the collar of his uniform.

"What use will that be? Hold them off a little while longer? It will be useless. They'll break free from upstairs, through the door and the barricades. They're everywhere like flies, we're surrounded," the German sighed. I could see his hand wandering to his inside pocket where he kept his cyanide pills.

I grabbed his hand in a crushing grip and threw it down, "You said there were supplies behind the door that was left there due to the infestation! What is behind that wall, tell me!"

He me in the eyes and I could see him going through the list in his mind. "Ammunition, guns, rations . . ." his eyes lit up, "Bombs."

"Then we best get into that room." I made my way over to the pipes lining the walls and grabbed one of the sturdier ones. Pressing my foot against the stone wall, I ripped it free from the hinges keeping it in place alongside the rusted counterparts. It made a cascade of noise, but what use was being quiet now? Weighing the metal in my hands, I nodded in satisfaction; this would do just fine.

"You're crazy, both of you, absolute maniacs! You just ask for suffering!" Alfred shouted, tears pooled on the courners of his eyes.

My gaze hardened as I stalked up to him and fisted a handful of his silky blonde hair pulling his head up and forcing him to look me in the eye, "You beg your god to save you and yet when faced with even the slightest of chances to save yourself, you turn it down. You worried about your brother, but your own cowardice kept you from even approaching the thought of leaving the fragile security of this bunker. You aren't in a war any longer; World War Two does not exist here. There are no leaders, no flags, no glory; you are trying to just survive the next minute. To do that, you need to grow up child. Now grab your knife and help us, we need to get out of here and then we can find our companions."

He stared at me dully; I almost thought he didn't hear a word I said until I released my hold and he pulled out his knife. I smiled, placing my hand on his head in a weak form of an apology and heading over to the door where Ludwig was pushing against the metal. The sounds of angered groans came from inside, this had to be fast or we would not make it. I propped against the door, preparing for when he would pull back the various locks. Feeling them throw themselves against the metal panel, I worried whether I would be enough to give my comrades enough time to ready for the incoming wave. We didn't have much time at all; the barricades were failing, the wood splintering and arms reaching with their rotten flesh sagging from the bones. I looked to Ludwig and nodded that I was ready. I just needed to hold them back for a moment, just a moment. There was a rapid succession of clicks and hollow thuds before I felt all their weight pressed against me. My tired body struggled from the constant stress and endless wakefulness; I felt my feet slide back and counted to three in my mind, only making halfway to 'two' before I was hurled back by their force.

Luckily Ludwig got out of the way of the door as it was thrown open. I skid across the stones as they rushed into the room, some falling from the sudden lack of resistance. Keeping a strong hold on the metal pipe, I jumped to my feet, the other two already fighting and attempting to keep a safe distance from their opponents. If they were careful, that meant they were slow. And slow was not a plus in this factor. I rushed towards them, the pipe swinging a full circle between my fingers before embedding itself deep into the skull of one of the undead soldiers. The metal concaved the bones into the brain matter, the way the skull gave out vibrating up my arm. Oh how I loved this!

"Don't take your time, strike fast and hard!" I cried over the moans and pressed forward. I was surprised how easy they gave way under my blows, but never would I let such a miniscule feeling come between me and my goals. What I did realize, however, was that the mob of rotten corpses were all trying to get through the door at once, hindering them just as much as they did us; perhaps even more so. Clawed hands flailed and tore into my clothing and skin. I could feel the warm trickle of blood down my cheek as I pushed myself on, running only on adrenaline.

The forced I had placed in moving forward back-lashed on me as I unexpectedly broke through their ranks and effectively threw myself to the floor, panting and sweating. There was so much in the room, most specifically guns; an entire array of different guns, untouched by the previous inhabitants due to their stupidity on how to work such equipment. A wicked smile crept across my features, pulling at the severed skin on my face giving a pleasant shock of pain down my spine. Grabbing the slender tube, weighing little in my hand compared to many machine guns I had experience with while still in the war. I jammed in the warhead and knelt, aiming at the great hoard of maggot ridden monstrosities.

"Alfred! Ludwig! Where are you!" I screamed over the noise. I couldn't fire just yet without my comrades. They could get caught in the blast, and despite our differences I had learned to trust the Nazi with my life. The _Amerikan_ was just a child as well; I couldn't allow such a young one die to save my own self. As I had hoped, Ludwig rolled out of the mess of corpses, his appearance no better than my own; and closely followed by a dazed and bleeding Alfred. The German's blue eyes locked onto the weapon in my hand and he couldn't help by smile as well. We probably looked like we had lost our minds with how he grinned like imbeciles over our suddenly brighter outlook on our situation. Some of the creatures realized that we had pushed ourselves back into the room and turned to attack. Looking back to my target, I tapped the trigger with my thumb . . .

* * *

"Perhaps I should have thought a little more before choosing the _Panzerfaust_," I laughed, helping to fill as many packs as we could carry with supplies.

Alfred glared at me from across the ruined building, "You think asshole! The entire roof almost collapsed on us!" As it was, there was much more rubble now than there was before that scenario.

"At least we're alive Alfred," Ludwig sighed, he didn't find the destruction half of the cement building as amusing as I did, "And there is still a long way to go. I doubt we'll have time to sleep between here and _Der Riese_."

The boy with corn silk hair stumbled over the mountain of bodies we collected, holding his pack of foodstuffs high as the maggots writhed under his jackboots, "Duh Reezey? Explanation please Mr. Nazi?" He asked and I couldn't help but giggle.

"_Der Reise_," Ludwig growled, "And call me by my damn name! It's a facility a ways away from here. Ivan and I talked about it while you slept; it's also where this entire mess started."

"Hold on, wait, you're leading us to the heart of this chaos! You loons better have a damn good reason for dragging me along!"

"We've gone over this little _Amerikan_," I scolded him, filling up a second pack, the first slung onto my back, "Ludwig says there is a possibility of a cure there as well."

The way his eyes lit up reminded me of my little sister when Katyusha surprised her with a freshly baked birthday cake, he was so adorable. "Are you serious! Fuck, then what are we waiting for!"

I looked over to Ludwig, "Just wait, he'll be complaining soon enough."

"I know," the other sighed. I laughed as the _Amerikan_ tripped over the remains of the wall and fell into the mud outside, complaining over the mess. The German man groaned, "Teenagers."

* * *

Outside of the bunker was a wasteland filled with corpses stranded in the low mist of the early morning. Looking to the sky I could see it would be another overcast day. Was there ever a day I saw the sun? I would have to say no, but then again I might have and the memory was not important enough to hold onto. We trudged through the muck; it stank like the bodies that lay across the landscape and seemed to grab our boots, begging to take us down into the black depths. It was an easy walk, simple despite the many creatures walking about; it was much easier to navigate a wide berth around them. The fact that only sounds drew their attention made our progress exceptionally smooth.

My eyes scanned the area thoroughly. I had been in this place for months, bordering a year if my memory served me correctly. One of our pilots had flown over this empty territory because of how quiet it was. In times of war, if an area was quiet, something was there; usually something _big_. The images of a small facility situated in the marsh had spurred a charge on the base. However . . . we came at a bad time.

* * *

"_It stinks," I growled, my teams moving through the swamp toward our intended target. I made a face of disgust, leave it to the Nazis to hide away in such a place. It was the closest thing to Hell they could reach. The mud was horrible, not even the TI-34s could get through the loose muck and any man who stood in place too long would have to be pulled out by his comrades. Some even lost their shoes and had to continue on in their bare skin. Not that we weren't used to it by now. This war left us without many things the other Allies would have deemed necessities, including guns, which a little more than half of my men did not have._

_Another pair of boots were not too far behind me, lighter than my own and agile in their step. "It smells like decay in the mist," he spoke gently; his voice had always been soft and soothing._

"_And the Earth smells of blood. We must be getting close," I chuckled dryly. More death, more pain, I hated this war. So far from home, I was completely out of my norm and situated out in the middle of this godforsaken marsh did not brighten my hopes of returning. The brunette gave me a wary smile, being my senior of half a decade; he was unusually calming and father-like, the closest thing I ever had to a father anyway._

_We continued through the muck before spotting the first Nazi. I held up my hand signaling for my __battalion to halt. We were still some ways from the Facility, its dark shape looming a ways away. Despite this, there were people walking through the mud, they were too far away to identify, but they looked mentally unwell. Some slouched forward; their bodies swaying side to side as they trudged along, their arms lip and swinging like pendulums to their shuffling pace. Others looked in pain, their heads thrown back and backs arched, looking up to the ominous sky as though beseeching their god for pity and death. Their arms were held out slightly, palms up to the clouds and elbows awkwardly bent, leading their awkward stride with their hips._

"_What the hell?" someone behind me whispered as we watched our enemies' antics. I couldn't help but agree. What was this! I motioned to the speaker, a small Latvian named Ravis armed with an SVT40 struggled out of the muck and armed his gun, lining the sight up and firing. His target's head exploded off the shoulders, but all the others held still._

_That's when I noticed something far more peculiar. They were unarmed; every one of them empty handed as they loitered aimlessly through the much and mist. They turned towards us, their precision impeccable in pin pointing the young Latvian's position. Their eyes seemed to glow an unnatural red in the dim lighting, my heart beginning to pound. Ravis, who had been preparing to down another, froze. His blue-gray eyes widened as the gun shook in his grasp, slowly falling. "Th-they're . . ." He was cut off by the sound of heavy panting, very reminisce of an animal._

_Whipping around, I lifted my PPD-40, firing without so much as thinking of the glowing-eyed beasts that looked of dogs but long dead. Its fur was falling out, leaving it with naked patches of skin and maggots digging deep into the blackening, rotting, stinking flesh. It gnashed its bloody jaws at me, fighting nature to sink its fangs into my flesh only to die short of reaching me. There were screams as we were engaged, my men retreating in fear and panic._

_We were flanked on all sides, the unarmed soldiers advancing toward us in varying speeds. Some managed an unsightly run towards our position, their arms flailing in every direction as they growled in voices unnaturally animalistic. Others, their legs looking grotesquely deformed with maggot-eaten soars and gleaming bones in view, limped after. Not far behind those were soldiers I had not seen, some had their legs entirely torn off or the bones so horribly fractured that rendered the limbs useless drag themselves along with their arms, their clawed hands digging deep into the muck._

_I fired on the fastest of the group, their bodies not reeking to the degree of decay as the others of their party that reached out for me and my men. Their nails were over grown and yellow with dried blood, the beds lined with grime and carnivorous bugs eating the flesh off from under the protection. This was why Ravis had tensed at the sight of them: they were all dead to begin with! Living corpses with their flesh beginning to rot and their eyes glazed over sightlessly, if there at all._

"_Fall back!" I shouted to all who remained; those being only a select few, the rest running off in the distance. We cleared an exit and progressed as fast as we could through the marsh. Ravis stood before me, firing into the approaching mob while Toris and I covered his flanks. I never noticed the danger until I was right on top of it, quite literally._

* * *

"Look out!" a voice broke through my thoughts as I was suddenly thrown back into the young _Amerikan_.

I looked down to him, completely confused in his actions, "_Chto?_" His eyes were trained to the muck and I followed his gaze. I was about to step into a patch of marsh grass, not that that was anything new, but hanging just outside the brownish blades was a hand, black with the mud and decay. The nails were long from months of neglect and the remaining muscles twitching in anticipation. Stifled moans rose from the heart of the small patch.

"What beast can be so clever as to situate itself in this place?" Ludwig murmured, his brows furrowing. I knew why, if they were smart enough to lay a ploy similar in make to an ambush, how stupid were they really? Curiosity gripped my instincts to maneuver around the condensed patch of weeds and caused me to skirt pass the hand and to the side. Using the long barrel of my new _Gewehr 98_, I pushed the grass away to reveal the body. In all honesty, it was chance that it ended up in that patch, as seen by how the arm that reached out through the grass was the only usable limb. The legs had been blown off, leaving only stumps of thighs, the flesh minced and bones shattered. The left arm was crippled to the point of no return, bones broken though the skin and the body in such a state of decay that even the maggots let it be.

I recognized the uniform however. How could I not when I wore the same clothing; down to the same fabric used to construct the articles. I remembered the long brown hair that had only grown in absence, and fell pass the shoulders, blackened in the mud. The half of the face I could see was distorted, the eye rolled into the skull and mouth gaping open with sallow cheeks that had been cut into by nature and carelessness. My mind reconstructed the features into something I knew only too well. If this had still been World War Two, I would have mourned, cried even. I would have sworn to kill every Nazi on the planet and see to the death of Hitler personally as retribution. But in this place where sides did not matter and loyalties were not expected, I only felt the growing hollowness in my chest complete itself.

I spun my rifle, the bayonet hanging over the skull of the one I had searched for every day since we had been separated. All that time, wasted on the dead. I knew it had been a waste. Why did I ever delude myself into hoping in this place that held no such thing? I skewered the blade through the skull of my best friend.

"We best keep moving, yes. We still have a long way to go Comrades."


	7. Francis: Together

I woke up from the best sleep I had in weeks, laying under my thin coat, eyes closed in the already dark room; it was utter silence I was greeted with. Nothing keeping me from drifting in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes, revelling in this rare occasion; usually I awoke to a fit of Gilbert's, or some other misfortune. I suddenly scrambled upright, instantly alert. Something out of the norm meant situations changed; looking around almost franticly, I glazed over the huddled forms of Arthur and his cousin in their far courner. On the other side of the room, Roderich was awake, stroking damp, snowy locks as the patient beside him slept. Or perhaps he had passed? Snatching my worn coat up and shrugging into the stained and soiled clothing, I staggered over to my comrade.

"How is he?" I whispered, squatting down across from the brunette. He had dark circles under his amethyst eyes behind the cracked and dirty frames, jaw set firm for a while as he trained his eyes on the sickly white face. The feverish flush was faint, practically not there, slowly fading away. He was on his back, lying on all the spare clothing we had to keep him as comfortable as we could. I couldn't see a trace of life in his unusually calm, soothed face. He looked young, especially without any facial hair. Honestly, even I had whiskers sprouting from my chin.

Roderich glanced up to me, though I didn't return the gaze. I more of _felt_ him scan over me a moment before sighing, "The fever's broken, and his vitals are still there. Faint, but there. I'm more worried over what that fever did to him. His max was forty-one-point-three; humans can't survive an internal body temperature that high, at least . . . not without serious drawbacks. Brain damage, organ damage, maybe even failure. He may be alright now, but I would like to do tests to make sure he's really alright. I hate not knowing."

Looking up with an attempt at an encouraging smile, I pat him on the shoulder gently, "Every day is always a gamble _Mon__ami_. We'll just have to wait and see what is to become of him."

"I wish he would at least open his eyes, say something; the quieter he stays, the more worried I become."

I sighed, settling on my rear, sitting across from the Austrian, both of us resting in a tense silence. I couldn't tell him not to worry; he was a doctor by all means, his original occupation having been firmly rooted in medical sciences. He chose the job to help people, save lives, and then he was pulled into this project due to his research of genetic disorders. He confided in me, the only reason he agreed to take the job was because of Gilbert's insistent pleading.

"What's the point anymore?" he suddenly choked, slender fingers digging into his scalp as he brought his knees up to his chest, hiding his face from view, "We're all going to die, it won't be long, we can't live forever, so why even try? Why even dare to hope? First Eliza, then Ludwig and now Gilbert; all of them are being taken from me."

I watched him, attempting to pull out words of encouragement, of condolences, but everything seemed so flat, so little. There was nothing I could do but sit across from him, looking at my hands in shame. I used to be better at this, knew every flowery, poetic word to fix whatever was wrong . . . where was that me now?

Our gloom was disrupted by a small groan across the room, enough to make us both jump by its sudden occurrence. Young _Mathieu _sat up slowly, blinking bleary-eyed moaning at having to awake from such a soothing, relaxing sleep. I could still see a child in him, the ways he stretched and leaned back, yawning and just barely covering his gaping mouth with the back of his fist. He was becoming thin, just a week after I brought him and Arthur here, as it was I could hear his stomach growl hungrily and see him wince as the hunger pains took effect. He hadn't reached the worst of it just yet, which also meant he had yet to switch into survival mode.

"_Bonjour_," I greeted him, smiling warmly in the young one's direction. Roderich brought his hands down, following my subtle hints. _Mathieu_ was still young, he was also very fragile. The last thing any of us wanted was our despair and helplessness to transfer across to him. He still had some sunshine to him, some life. Something this world was in desperate need of.

"_Bonjour_," he greeted back, scratching the back of his head groggily, the wavy locks sticking up at odd angles, "Is there anything to eat?"

"Some crackers and one can of meat left. That's pretty much all we can spare for breakfast. Dinner is going to be a scavenger hunt," I chuckled lightly, getting to my feet and pulling out the last of the food in our supply bag. Fumbling around inside, I was lucky enough to find one more soup tablet for Gilbert. That was it; there was nothing left for us. Roderich and Gilbert had already stripped the room before I even showed up, and then we had scavenged the halls above ground, avoiding the sublevels with all earnest.

Roderich knelt, starting to his feet, "Is there anything wrong Francis?" he asked hesitantly.

I blinked away the haze, my mind wandering to darker situations about to come. Smiling reassuringly, I closed the bag up, "Yeah, just fine. We're going to need to find more rations."

"You mean the sublevels." The Austrian's amethyst eyes gazed like drills into the back of my head. It wasn't even a question, honestly, I never expected him to be so tactless.

"Or perhaps one of the other buildings, get out into the courtyard and look around."

"That's just as dangerous, especially with the hounds out there. And you going alone, completely out of the equation, you know what happened last time."

"Going alone where? What happened when?" a drowsy voice cut into our discussion. Turning, we saw a groggy Arthur rubbing the grit from his eyes, obviously awoken by Roderich's vehement denial.

I divvied up the rest of the food for the four of us as Roderich prepared a cold soup for Gilbert, not looking to the rest of us as he did so. I smiled, trying to brighten our morning, even if we were trapped in a graveyard, "We were simply discussing the prospect of scavenging for more rations. We seem to find ourselves with an empty bag, but there should be more in the sublevels."

"And why can't you just go down a level and search through there?" _Mathieu_ questioned, nodding his head in thanks as I handed him three crackers, one was from my rations. I took pity on the child; no one of such innocence deserved this punishment.

"Gilbert already had," Roderich interrupted before I could begin a response, "He picked them out on his way to escape, but his brother got the rations while we were sort of stuck here."

"So how far in the sublevels are we talking?" Arthur inquired further after an ominous silence, nibbling at the cracker to make it last longer. He had broken one of his two in half and given it to _Mathieu_ who must have realized how babied he was as he ate his larger rations with a sullen look.

"About the third or fourth levels," I settled back in my creaky chair, "Gilbert explained to me that the cafeteria is also at the bottom of the building, so it would have tons of condensed foodstuffs, maybe we can even grab some cooking utensils. A warm meal would be heavenly right about now."

"However, as I said before Francis, it is suicide to go alone, and even in groups of two, it's a little more risk than I'd want to attempt," his dark amethyst eyes locked onto my blue ones with a look of mild contempt.

"But we'll starve if we stay where we are," _petit __Mathieu _spoke up in his quiet little way.

I held my hand out in a showing way, looking back to my comrade, "He understands. Safety is key, Roderich; but when it comes between being a mindless, flesh-eating monster, or dying in this room safe and sound from the slow, painful process of starvation, I'd rather walk out there." He held my gaze a moment longer before looking back to the man on the floor, once more playing with the pale hair in an intimate way. I knew their relationship well; I could easily link it to Arthur and myself. Having grown up together, gotten on each other's nerves, even attempted to kill each other once or twice; but we still were there for each other when it counted. That's the type of relationship those two had, and if I was in the Austrian's position, I may be just as unreasonably paranoid. After all, he lost more than just his best friend . . .

"We're on the ground floor, which means there are more above us and below us," Roderich explained sullenly, though most I had heard from Gilbert on our few escapades out to scavenge. "The upper levels hold less of these creatures, but also less supplies. We kept the Mess Hall on the lowest level."

"So what you're saying is that going up would be easier, but with so little reward it would be pointless," my English friend reiterated.

"But since it was more like a disease, they originated from the sublevels where the infirmaries and the like were and have congregated there in larger groups," I finished off, tipping the seat onto it's back two legs, feeling it buckle under my weight until I slowly lowered it back down.

"But we can shoot our way through, grab the supplies and come back," Arthur shrugged, not seeing the real danger in it.

Roderich, feeding Gilbert through a dropper, looked up irritably, "You don't seem to understand thoroughly the issue. Say Francis and you were to enter the sublevels, once you started killing them off, those above would start filtering down, and the ones out in the marsh not too far away would return. Now let's say the two of you reach the Mess Hall, gather all the food we could need for the next month or two. You wouldn't be able to get back through the way you came because instead of going down to a place where there is a limit to how many you will encounter, you'd be going against a seemingly unlimited hoard. And despite how you feel about me or any other Nazi, I am simply taking note of _your_ well-being!"

"There has got to be some other way out though. Every building has alternative routes in the case that the front door is not an option," I mused aloud, pressing the brunette despite myself. I hated upsetting others, unless of course it was Arthur, but that was simply for childish humour, but this was a serious matter and I really have no other choices present. He fell oddly silent, continuing to feed his patient, but why he suddenly became so tight-lipped was a mystery; perhaps he was weighing the odds, the scenarios that may occur, determining if it was really worth it. I looked to Arthur and him to me, the same look in his eyes that I had in mind. If there indeed proved to be a second passage, we were going, whether it was sane or not. I may be the optimistic one in the depths of Hell, but I refuse to die in this place.

"There is an escape chute that leads straight up, so you would have to climb all five levels at a complete vertical and then you would wind up in the courtyard. If you're lucky, your gunfire will draw them towards the building and down the stairs, allowing you to make a fairly clean run back here. If you aren't, then you'd have a slower trek, and increasingly more dangerous."

"Where is it?" Arthur asked, standing up and performed maintenance on his _STEN_. He hardly had anything left in it, so guns would be our other objective.

Roderich refused to look up, continuing with his task, the bowel almost entirely empty. "In the storage room, in the back, it looks like a large boiler pipe with a small latch, easy to miss in case of an Allied raid. But I adamantly insist no one goes alone at any point in time. And don't take too long, I hear the dogs out in the yard around twilight hours."

"_Entendu_," I nodded to him, setting about checking my _MAS-36_, I didn't have much ammunition left, "Weapons are objective two. What rooms hold armaments?"

"Mostly the security rooms, the soldiers never really had a purpose to be in the room during research or any other time."

"Alright then," Arthur held his gun in a ready position across his chest, "First guns on the way, then food. We can use my bag for the weapons, Francis, you carry the food. Mattie, stay here with Roderich in case something happens." The boy nodded quickly, taking whatever vague responsibility given to him as a commandment of the bible. I chuckled gently, waiting patiently as Roderich reluctantly stood, moving to the controls of the door and turning off the _Electro-Guard_. Arthur turned to _Mathieu_ and spoke gently to him, "I _will_ return," he whispered with absolute conviction, "you stay safe until we come back."

The boy nodded, his violet eyes shining with determination, "We'll be fine."

I took Arthur's shoulder in a firm grip, "Come on, before Roderich changes his mind." I nodded my own vows to the brunette who gave me a stern look, threatening me in the chance I didn't return. I chuckle to myself, but nod again in understanding. Taking the door knob in my hand, I look back to Arthur, his empty bag on his back as I had out supply bag tossed over one shoulder. Our eyes meet and I hesitantly open the door to the halls.

* * *

The door closed behind us with a loud thud as the bolt was slid back into place, followed by a low hum as the current continued through the metal door. I looked to Arthur and nodded before continuing down the hall to the stairs.

"You haven't changed," Arthur muttered, almost immediately after the door was locked shut. His green eyes softened now that Roderich was no longer present, coming down off his guard just a little, though there was no sign of a smile in his face.

"Well," I chuckle lightly, "someone around here needs to keep an optimistic outlook. Now that so many men keep getting lost in this place, maybe they'll send out planes." I readied my assault rifle, locking the clip box into place and preparing for engagement. "Don't be too loud though, we don't want attention drawn to us too soon."

Arthur nodded following my lead as we cautiously made our way to the staircase. The sublevels were darker, having no way to obtain whatever natural light filtered through the dense sheet of clouds. The flight of stairs disappeared into darkness a moment before reappearing in the flickering white light. It smelt horrid down there and only grew worse was we took the steps one at a time, guns raised to our shoulders. I could hear them, their voices strained as they took in ragged breaths, vibrating their shredded vocal cords feebly. If I were to be completely honest, I would question why these creatures stayed in these lower levels, but as I peeked around the courner, I understood why. Many did not have legs, some even limbs, their bodies eaten away by others of their kind. The ones trapped down in this place were cannibalistic.

Behind me, Arthur retched into his hand, trying to stifle the sound as he fell against the wall. He still wasn't quite used to the sight or smell of our enemies. There was a brief silence before they started back up, sounding eager, searching for us. Those with legs limped towards the stairs while the others with only their arms to move with dragged themselves along. I pulled the trigger, embedding a bullet into a Crawler's skull and Arthur tapped, shooting four bullets of his twelve left, and all I had were six left, including the four still in my magazine. We had to move fast, shooting with speed and accuracy. Sweeping the floor and making sure to tap even the ones immobile on the ground. Needless to say, we ran out of all ammunition on the first floor.

"You need a better gun," I teased, slipping into one of the security rooms, watching the corpses strewn carefully as I raided the supply closet. There were missing guns, missing bullets . . . lots of missing bullets. Nonetheless, there was at least something. Apparently what the raider couldn't take, they left.

"It's a submachine gun, what do you expect?" Arthur muttered, following me inside. Placing his _STEN_ on the counter, now useless, he picked out a handgun arranged with a stock, looking at the machine enviously. "A _Mauser-C96_. Who the bloody hell would leave _this_?"

"Someone who didn't plan on leaving altogether," I pulled out a rifle, one that matched Roderich's. There were fewer bullets for the _Kar-98k_, which just went to show who exactly raided this room. Filling the stripper clip, I locked them into place. This gun even had a safety, unlike my own. "We can't stay here; I can hear them coming already. Do you have enough ammunition?"

"Yeah, detachable magazines, and lots of them," he quickly placed them in easily accessible places, mostly his pockets. I prayed none would fall out; bullets were worth more than gold anymore.

We slipped out of the room, met with some struggling up the stairs blindly. Others were tumbling down, luckily impacting their skulls on the concrete floor, committing suicide to reach us with a ravenous appetite. I held back on shooting unless necessary, firing on those coming from the surface while Arthur cleared the way. On the second floor, I left the Englishman to sweep, searching for more ammunition. I found a few boxes more, a few new guns and their compatible bullets. We threw them, empty, into Arthur's bag, running down each level and being careful to use no more than four bullets on one enemy. Despite our new reserves, stripping the lockers meant we'd have nothing left once it was squandered.

The fourth floor was the worst; they were strewn about in all directions, in the halls, in every room, broken, eaten, decayed. Arthur vomited in his mouth, spitting out the bile upon the steps. It was rather rancid down here, and with no widows or doors, it just collected like smoke, growing ever stronger. Noises from above urged us to move onward, leaving many that couldn't move, keeping a wide berth of the incapacitated beings.

"Aim first for the crawlers," I commanded, following my own advice. They had the easiest time down the stairs, slowly dragging themselves down every step while the others would continuously lose balance and tumble to the hard floor. The maggot-ridden fiends with their glowing red eyes . . . I admit I faltered after a while, being reminded of my friend.

"Francis, hurry! We're on a tight deadline!" Arthur snapped, double-tapping into a Crawler's skull. He took my arm, pulling me down the steps to the Mess Hall, my feet fumbling under me.

The cafeteria was deserted, perhaps the only floor of the building not entirely destroyed. No bodies, no blood; yes it was in total disarray, but no one was here when the dead began their second coming. The windows were covered by steel shades, the doors firmly shut and the kitchens dark. I wasn't even allowed to really gain my bearings before Arthur dragged me to the door. He fumbled the doorknob, finding it locked as I sprinted to the other door and checked there. Locked. Whoever had been in charge did not want anyone coming through, making sure not to be accessible by those outside.

There was a sudden loud clanging and screech as Arthur grunter under the weight of the steel sheets. "Get over here and help me bloody Frog! There's no other way in, and we haven't got much time."

I was swift to his side, even with us together straining under the sheeted blinds. They were thicker than one would expect, weighing a good forty pounds and slanted to reflect gunfire of certain firearms. There were loud cracks as skulls impacted concrete as we worked, finally holding it up high enough for me to slip my rifle underneath as I lifted Arthur through the gap. He disappeared into the dark room beyond and I followed, snatching up my gun and letting the sheet fall with a loud clatter that echoed off the walls.

"It's so quiet in here," Arthur whispered, walking through the dark kitchen wryly. I reached out, feeling along the wall until I tapped a button, the lights turning on and revealing the empty kitchen.

Slinging my rifle across my back, I started opening cupboards, pulling out condensed foods in the form of blessed evaporated milk, bread, canned soup, dried fruits, pickled olives and much more. My stomach rumbled an earthquake just looking at it all, mouth watering with hunger and want gnawing at my innards. "_Mon__Dieu_," I sighed, carefully pulling out the preserved goods, "I wish we could take it all, but one bag is no where near enough."

"And coming back down here in a few months will still be a hassle," he groaned behind me, taking out ration packs from in a refrigerated closet. Guns, food, we could hunker down for a long while. "There's also some other supplies in the back; blankets, clothing, first aid, towels."

"Take them with us," I called, carefully arranging what canned foods we could take with us inside the bag I had brought, trying to fill every minute place inside to the very top. Mostly we stashed away Mess Kit supplies, knowing it would last longer than the rest of the food, but we managed some dried fruit, evaporated milk, pickled walnuts and sauerkraut, but were also forced with contained, clean water. Then, in every spare pocket we could find, towels, clothes we determined would fit each of us well enough, and blanket rolls made of warm wool and cotton were looped around and strapped with belts.

"Now," Arthur huffed, weighed down slightly by his bag, heavy with guns and supplies, "where's that back door Roderich was telling us about."

"It would be in the back, somewhere unobtrusive and believably placed since it was just supposed to look like a large gas pipe." I made my way to the back of the kitchens, looking at the many number of pipes, all quite large before breaking off into smaller pieces to fill the needs. One though, was just big enough for a fit man to slip inside. Running my hand over the cool metal, my fingers hooked into an exceptionally well designed latch. With a gentle click, a small door opened, a metal ladder going up into darkness.

I started reaching towards the ladder only to get my arm caught halfway. I turned to Arthur expectantly, he too looking up into the nothingness, "You have more to carry than me, making you slower and more vulnerable. I'll go up first and clear things out for you."

I watch him a minute before letting my arm drop and his hand releases me as he climbs into the passageway, the stock of his handgun in his bag and the pistol itself slipped into his belt to keep his hands free. Looking up, he starts the slow journey back up. I wait three minutes before following, struggling more under the heavier bag. Had I really gotten soft when we went into hiding? What an embarrassment, I can't even call myself a proper soldier. Overhead, it was a while, but I heard a loud clanging as the exit hatch was thrown open, a dim flicker of light coming from the distant porthole. I heard Arthur scramble out, the metal around me clanging and vibrating underneath my hands and feet.

"Hurry, get up here Frog, the path is clear at the minute," he called down to me. Pushing myself harder to scramble up the steel ladder, I felt that something was not right. We'd be a ways away from the building since the kitchens were built out. The entirety of Sublevel Five was several times larger than any of the other halls which were all rather cookie-cutter in design, shape, and function; so when I reached the exit, finding myself in the middle of a central courtyard with the closest building not being the one we had escaped from but a bomb shelter, I wasn't too caught off guard.

Arthur looked around, gun at ready as we gained our footing, "I see nothing, shouldn't there be at least _some_ loitering out here?"

Before I could speak, I was met with the sound of gunfire. Both of us jumped visibly, eyes wide in disbelief. We never thought about more survivors, the thought of looking for more never crossed my mind, but here we happened upon someone else, my conscious would not allow me to abandon them. "It came from over here," I started running as fast as I could to where the spray of bullets originated. Two guns, no, three overlapped.

"Francis!" Arthur attempted calling me back, but unable to leave me to my whims, followed.

I rounded the courner of a building, pulling my rifle into position; a group of three men were firing upon a hoard that attempted to surround them. I recognized none of them, though I was still at a great distance. One wore a long, beige trench coat, towering over the other two ominously, though handling himself well. I knew his uniform vaguely, linking it to the Russian Red Army. To his left was a shorter man, blonde and clothed in a Nazi military uniform, it was an odd sight to see them working together, back to back, relying on each other like life-long comrades. The youngest was a blonde wearing a uniform very similar to Arthur's perhaps a survivor of his regiment. He was young, slightly hiding between the other two, firing his gun with trembling hands, though his eyes shown with tenacity.

The group closest to me was thinner, having been the few still in the courtyard while the others had rushed our building and caught sound of them. I raised my rifle, firing into the thin wall of lumbering corpses. I caught the attention of the small group, all faltering in surprise at my sudden appearance. "This way!" I called to them, clearing a path.

Arthur reached me by this time, connecting the stock and mowing over the crawlers with the semi-automatic setting. He was too preoccupied keeping us safe from those who took a renewed interest in us while I covered the other three. They ran towards us, the German man running backwards, relying on myself and Arthur to keep him safe; even as we were complete strangers.

"Oh my god," Arthur suddenly faltered, "Alfred!"

The young blonde boy looked to us, having just tapped one who had come too close to his flank. I recognized the blonde hair vaguely, though that stubborn cowlick was one I could never forget. "Arthur!"

"Now is not the time for screaming out _Syn_," I heard the Russian faintly as they reached us. The German was not far behind.

"We can't get to the main facility," I called over the gunfire.

"The bunker!" the German responded, "I have the code!"

We covered ourselves on the short trek back, having some close shaves with the Crawlers. We were practically backed against the wall as the German typed in his code. There was an audible click as the large lock gave way. He quickly opened the metal door and we slowly slipped inside one at a time. First Alfred, then Arthur, I, the Russian and finally the German who slammed the metal door shut and the lock slammed back into place. It was only seconds before we heard the sound of screeching and hollow thumps from outside.

* * *

"Alfred, you bloody git! Where were you!" Arthur demanded angrily, though he repeatedly embraced the taller boy, fingers raking through the dirty blonde hair was though to ensure the young man was real, "Mattie and I . . . we thought you were dead!"

"Is Matthew alright? Where is he?" Alfred hurriedly looked around, as though expecting his brother to appear out of the dark corners of the dim room.

Arthur nodded, "He's inside that building, in a security room with . . . a fellow survivor. They're waiting for us to return with supplies."

"We made our way through the Sublevels and raided the kitchens. You all seemed to appear at a bad time," I chuckled, smiling and holding my hand out to the Russian who was beside me, watching the interaction between the cousins, "Francis Bonnefoy of the _French__Armee_."

He took my hand in a firm grip, "Ivan Braginsky," he smiled sweetly, "Red Army."

I looked to the German who nodded his head in greeting, "Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"Gilbert's brother?"

His blue eyes widened at the mention of his older brother, "You know him? Is my brother alright? Alive?"

"Well . . . uh . . . you see," I muttered, suddenly regretting bringing up the albino, "His condition . . . changed. Roderich has been caring for him for weeks since the incident."

"What happened?" His blue eyes held a gleam of terror, though he attempted to keep composure of himself. For this moment, I wished I hadn't brought him up.

* * *

"_The antidote is a priority at this point. If any of us were to be bitten . . ."_

"_I don't like it when your voice trails off," Gilbert huffed, leaning against the table, arms folded across his chest. I sat at the table to his side, taking a small sip of what water we had left. He was so overbearing, hounding on Roderich for as long as I had known. I was growing accustomed to it, but again, it irked me slightly._

_The brunette shot a worn look to the albino, sighing irritably. "You know where the antidote is."_

"_Ja, but we also need supplies. We're looking at empty bags and hollow bellies. The antidote isn't the real issue."_

"_Survival should be our first priority."_

"_And your little medicine bottles aren't going to feed us all that well."_

_They continued bickering back and forth, so irritating and grating on my frayed nerves. I couldn't sleep, they kept entering my mind every chance they got. I was utterly terrified. Every time I was forced on scavenging trips with the albino, I would be his pack animal, vulnerable, slow, but useless to even myself. He had found me in the marsh, delirious and delusional, holding a grenade in my hands as I trudged through the swamp without hope. I owe him everything._

_Roderich turned away suddenly as I had apparently drowned them out to think my own thoughts. I startled slightly as he went to the gun cabinet, pulling out Gilbert's rifle. "If you're not going to do it, then I will. We don't have time for this!" He marched to the door only to have Gilbert physically pull him away from the door and into the wall. I jumped again, the chair falling behind me as I quickly raised to my feet, unsure what to do. Amazingly, nothing more violent happened, but Gilbert's lips kept moving, his voice soft but urgent. Daring myself, I stepped closer to hear them._

"_Don't even think about it Edelstein. She's still out there, you know it and I know it. And we both know you haven't got what it takes to take care of her," the albino muttered. They were almost the same height, Gilbert just fractionally taller as he pinned the other with one of his intimidating gazes. "You stay here."_

_Roderich looked away, nodding lightly, his grip on the gun going slack and Gilbert snatched it from him and moved away, grabbing one of our supply bags. "Where are you going?" I asked timidly, not wanting to dig too far into what was none of my business._

"_We," Gilbert annunciate, looking back with grin, pretending nothing had happened; like that tense moment was just a figment of my imagination, "Are going scavenging. You know the layout of this floor well enough, right?" I nodded numbly, taking up the bag and my gun. He checked his bullets and gun, making sure everything was still usable. "Alright then, let's go."_

* * *

_Stepping out in to the halls, I felt something different about him. Some sort of resignation. "Is something wrong Gilbert?"_

"_Nein, not really," he responded absently, looking around casually enough. We had been frugal in stripping our floor of rations and supplies, leaving enough for three young men to last a few more weeks if planned properly. His eyes glanced over the empty floor before looking back at me, "Can you strip the floor? I'm going down the Sublevels. Just get the usual. I'm going after the antidote. Move quickly; try not to fire bullets if you can help it, the less attention the better."_

_I barely even inclined my head before he was off to the downward staircase around the courner, leaving me to my task at hand. Most of the creatures that reached our floor simply wandered out, leaving the place empty and free of most dangers. Any bodies we found we'd have to watch carefully, untrusting of Death and his reliability. I swore there was nothing spectacular about the trip, besides having the defenceless me alone in this damned place._

_The first shots were not long after we split up. Worried, I hurriedly stripped the room of all we could take, but after that, I was lost. Should I return with the goods or help Gilbert? I was about to step out into the halls when they started coming, their endless groaning filling the walkway. To say I was terrified is an understatement. I was petrified, frozen in the room, hiding in a dark courner as they paraded past the open door. I couldn't slip past; I dare not even breathe most of the time, not wishing to draw them towards myself, nor away from my friend and comrade._

_I truly am pathetic, willing to let him die for my own safety._

* * *

"Ivan was the one who saved me," Alfred spoke to Arthur, eating a piece of chocolate he had in his own bag. So much food, I never would have believed it could exist. "Still, we all sort of worked together and made it this far. I was so worried about you and Mattie."

"You git, running off and winding up in all the wrong places," Arthur sighed, nibbling a cracker, paranoid about shortages just as much as we all were . . . except the young Yankee who happily ate with his mouth contently full.

"It's gotten quiet out there," Ivan spoke softly, "I think the moon has already risen."

"Then the hounds are prowling. We may not be able to get back until tomorrow morning, and even then, they must be lumbering around the yard," I sighed, my knees drawn to my chest for comfort. I glanced to Ludwig who was silently pecking at his own food, mind lost in thought and guilt dragging heavily on my conscious. Still, I smiled, "We may as well hunker down for the night."

It was Alfred who looked at me with a face of disbelief, "But what about Mattie, you mean he's going to have to starve himself for the night because we're scared? I think we should chance it."

"Living is the main purpose of coming here, remember Alfred?" Ivan chimed, smiling with a hint of disapproval.

"I think he's right," Ludwig suddenly broke our settlement, "We all need whatever energy we can get, and one night may be too long."

"But what about the hounds?" Arthur interjected, obviously not wanting another encounter with the beasts.

"Alone we are at their mercy, but in a group we can cover each other well enough to make it, especially with so many of us."

Ivan and I gave him mirrored looks of hesitancy, but he spoke up as I remained silent. "Are you sure you want to risk something this reckless? Your brother cannot be helped if you are dead, if you can even do anything at all."

"I am getting a foul feeling about this," Arthur agreed, fingers resting on his German gun.

Ludwig stood, "I _know_ we can make it! But if the rest of you are just going to sit here-!"

"I'm coming too," Alfred stood, taking out a _Mauser __HSc_ as his weapon choice, "Dogs or not, Mattie is waiting for me!"

Arthur sighed, not bothering to correct his cousin that, in fact, his brother believed him dead and gathered his own things, "Git, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"I guess I am out numbered," Ivan smiled, standing as well. I simply sighed, following suit. I wouldn't be left alone, no matter what waited outside. Still . . . something didn't feel right. It was silent out there . . . too silent. Wouldn't they still be groaning, not fall silent and virtually disappear?

"Oi, Ludwig," Alfred readied his weapon, "Put in the code."

Moving quickly, he covered the distance that we had moved to, away from the door out of paranoia at the time. The lock slammed back and he opened the door a fraction. We all jumped as a bony, decrepit, decaying hand caught the door. Nails were disgusting, long and yellow with dirt and maggots writhing underneath.

"_Gott_!" Ludwig gasped, not expecting such an assault. He attempted to slam the door shut on the intruding limb, but the creature's unnatural strength pulled it open. I gaped as a face appeared; half rotting, green eyes wide and disturbingly lucid. What were once long, flowing brown locks were now tangled, matted, and stained in blood.

A broad grin lit up her face as she caught sight of the blonde man, a feat we had never before seen. He stumbled back with a cry of terror, all of us moving away besides Ivan, who rushed to the other's aid, aiming his _Gewehr-98_ to the female. She hurled the door open with unimaginable strength, the steel hinges creaking dangerously as she limped as quickly as she could into the shelter, not hesitating when she simply threw the tall Russian aside into a wall before he could fire; the wind knocked out of him.

Arthur herded Alfred back, unsure what to do. She ignored the rest of us, eyes focused solely on the German man. She laughed; a horrible, ragged, unnatural laugh . . . a daughter of Satan could not have done better.

"I've found you."


	8. Gilbert: Warped

_Lying naked upon a metal gurney, I feel like a weight is pressed against my entire body, forbidding me to move. I don't want to open my eyes, my lids feel like lead and I don't want to know what is going on around me. A blanket is draped over my narrow hips by an unknown doctor. Or are they a doctor? Perhaps they are a surgeon. But why would I be here unless I was ill? The hollow slice of metal grazing metal breezed past my ear, though when I tried to stiffen, I was forced to remain lax, unresponsive. Panic welled inside me, but when I attempted to move my limbs, open my eyes, make any one of my muscles, even if it would be nothing but a twitch, to move at my will, my body ignored me. Nothing responded, trapped inside a small courner of my mind. I couldn't even quicken the measured, even breaths that drove me increasingly insane._

_I feel like I am in a box inside my mind. Or a small room, with one door and no windows, without connection to anything unless I open that door . . . and I don't want to. But nor can I stay here, pacing, feeling the tingling through my spine and veins. No matter how I scratch, tender to ease the maddening feeling away, or coarse and rough, demanding it be turned into pain, it won't ease. I can hear everything under the crack in the door, but why must I endure the pain to come if I open the door. Endure them who wait out there for me. Endure that surgeon with his blades._

_I curl upon myself on the white floor, nude, my clothes thrown across the room, nails digging into my arms, my spine, knees drawn up to my chest. Please, make all of this stop! Whoever can! Whoever will! Anyone but me! I cannot deal with this! The feeling through my body, the sound of calm, even breaths leaving my lungs, and then the sound of a viscous liquid pouring in buckets upon the ground. The faint feeling of something cold pressed constantly against my back and the gentle fabric across my hips. They are so barely there, fainter than a distant cry from a mountain top to the field below. The slight pressure across my stomach I can't quite name, the downpour of blood. Yes, it has to be blood. They are so faint . . . but with nothing else, they grow in me; in my mind._

_I look up weakly, the brass knob taunting me. I cannot take this anymore. I turn it with all my strength, the second I do and it opens just a crack, slender fingers like a withering skeleton grab the edge, pulling it open. I grip the handle tightly, trying to once more pull it closed, willing to suffer alone, just make them go! Hands upon hands, long, yellow nails digging into the white of the door pulling it open and me along with it. I can see eyes peering in at me, glowing red, decaying faces, all of them corpses._

"_We found you! Found you! Found you," they chant, their voices hissing pass torn vocal cords, laughing like satanic children. They heave, their strength unbelievable, engulfing me inside them, surrounded, their decaying, stinking, maggot-ridden bodies pressing against me on all sides. Their hands grab at me; they pulled me away from the small place in my mind out into this large space filled to the brim with death and agony._

"_Du . . . bist . . . MEINE!"_

"_Noch nicht."_


	9. Announcement

Hello, you may have figured I must have died eons ago. No updates in over a year almost, nothing quite substantial. I apologize. Many of my stories are being discontinued for various reasons, mainly because my sense of literary refinement that has developed over time no longer allows me to continue due to their poor quality. Of this list includes:

_A House Divided_

_Loving It_

_Singing Through Bars_

_Song of the Century_

_Bewitched_

_The Cage_

_Not Like You_

_Fallen Heart_

* * *

However, I have not quit. Over this extended period of absence, I have been outlining remakes of certain stories that deserve better and/or more.

_Waving Flag_

_Don't Leave Me Here_

_In this Diary_

_One of Nothing_

_Code Geass_

Please be patient, I will soon have a first chapter out for my new work within the next month or two. I sincerely apologize. From now on, I will carefully plan works and not start too many that I cannot finish. Here are some peeks at the new, refined, mature style you will be getting soon.

* * *

_Dance Among the Loti _(Waving Flag Remake)

"Many things fade," he spoke in a near whisper, his voice heavy with weariness, as though he carried some invisible weight, "Youth, beauty, good friends, even memories. Eventually, even the fact that once we existed tapers off to a mere whimsy of a person glancing at a name upon a gravestone, realizing it means nothing to them."

* * *

_Crimson Tears of Lost Souls _(Don't Leave Me Here Remake)

Gunfire rained around me, seeming to bounce off the fog itself; it was thick enough, so I couldn't say I would have been surprised had that really been the case. It came from all sides, from out of the dismal gray, screams and distorted commands drowned out in the orchestra of explosions. Now and then, from the corner of my eye, I could just make out dark figures in the distance before they slipped just out of view. Sweat beaded under the helmet, rolling down my brow and the bridge of my nose, despite the chill of the bog. I made to swipe it as a figure appeared, this one staying. Rolling my shoulders, lifting the rifle that seemed to suddenly gain another twenty pounds, I took aim. Something was very wrong, he walked with a wide stance and appeared unarmed, shuffling right past me, seemingly more interested in something else, not even noting my existence. The second I tightened my hold around the trigger, a cold sense of dread filled me; I knew immediately I had made a terrible mistake.

* * *

I hope you will come and see my new works as they come out and continue supporting me and them. I hope to entertain you on an entirely new level than the works you have seen so far. Thank you.


End file.
